


Mayhem

by Xpouii



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Horror, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 33,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xpouii/pseuds/Xpouii
Summary: My entries for the JSE Artists Prompts over on tumblr! Every Day’s prompt will be a short chapter in one continuous story.The egos have been struggling. With Jack still in a coma and Schneep once again on an extended vacation, how will they fare when the calendar turns once again to May?





	1. Into the madness

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! I am fully committed to see it through and I hope it will be a fun, cohesive project that comes out with some semblance of quality!

Chase exited his recording room with a heavy sigh, closing the door behind him; it paled in comparison to Jack’s, but thanks to the greenscreen—after dealing with the chair issue—he could record from home. He made it a game, a joke, and he got away with it more or less. Now instead of an empty house, he was at least greeted with familiar faces at the end of a recording session. Jackie looked up and smiled from the couch, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

  
“I got about a week’s worth of videos,” Chase said. “Granted Robin can use all of it. I wasn’t at my best.”

  
Jackie stood and walked over, giving Chase a hug, “I know it was great, Chase. You’re keeping the channel going. _For Jack_.”

  
“For Jack,” Chase said. “Any news?”

  
“Nothing,” Marvin said without looking up from his laptop. “It’s just like last time. Schneep’ll come back when he wants to.”

  
Jackie patted Chase firmly on the back and returned to the couch, leaning in to scan Marvin’s screen, “Where are you looking for him now?”

  
Marvin scooted away, closing his laptop. “Instagram. Every second of my life can’t be spent looking for him.”

  
The magician swept out of the room, slamming his bedroom door when he reached it. Chase winced, “Still kinda miffed about the poll, huh? I really thought it would be fun.”

  
“Don’t worry,” Jackie said. “Everybody’s on edge. We just gotta hold it together for a little while longer. Schneep will be back. Jack will wake up. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  
Jameson came down the hall, probably roused by Marvin’s dramatic exit, and sat on the couch between them with a small wave. He turned to Chase, signing. _Everything alright_?

  
Chase made himself smile. Everyone knew recording days weren’t the easiest on him, “I’m fine, Jamie, thanks. It went well.”

  
Jamie settled, fidgeting with his hands as an awkward silence stretched out between the three of them. Finally, he nudged Jackie. _Any news about Henrik_?

  
“Nothing yet,” Jackie said. “But Marvin seems optimistic, right Chase?”

  
Chase glanced up, “Uh, yeah optimistic. That’s how he seemed.”

  
Jameson didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t question them, settling instead for tugging at the end of his mustache and looking off into space. Chase rose, unable to stand the silence anymore, and Jackie moved to stand as well. “I’m gonna go lie down,” Chase said, stopping the hero’s plan to follow.

  
Jackie nodded, but his concern was obvious. They all knew Chase wasn’t going to be lying down—not until he passed out—but it wasn’t a subject Jackie could broach, as much as he wanted to. Whatever kept Chase going, they had to rely on—and Schneeplestein wasn’t home to back him up in an intervention.

  
Chase closed and locked his bedroom door, sitting at his desk and rummaging for his newest bottle, pushing aside empties and other trash. When he found it, he glanced around for a clean(ish) glass but quickly gave up and drank straight from the bottle. He picked up his hat and put it on. The familiarity was a dull comfort, reminding Chase that he still existed, even in this wildly diminished state. Stacy, and his kids, they existed too, and as soon as things were sorted out—as soon as they found Schneep—he could find his family, and a way out of his own persistent mental decline.


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik is on vacation—is it all it’s cracked up to be?

White sand, blue water, gorgeous people, everything Henrik had been looking for now surrounded him, but there was little joy to be had. He enjoyed a bit of globetrotting now and then—especially when he was running from his failures—but things had gone stale. No matter where he went, something followed. He wasn’t prepared to blame it on the supernatural, but he was seeing things, losing time, waking up with bedsheets around his throat pulled taught by his own hands.

  
It was stress, of course, guilt and stress and the frequent change in climate and elevation. Perhaps even mental illness—that thought was truly exquisite. Losing his mind completely would be a comfort compared to what future might await him. Then again, Henrik had already gotten very good at lying to himself; selective amnesia was his greatest talent and he could wield it sharper than any scalpel. Tests came in many forms: someone choking, an old man having a heart attack, a child with a broken arm—all followed by that old song and dance. “ _Is there a doctor on the boat, in the restaurant, on the beach_?!”

  
Each time was easier, turning his head, burying his face in the newspaper, chasing the bottom of his beer. Usually, there were doctors all too eager to play the hero; sometimes people died, but none of them were Jack, so Henrik just kept ignoring. Eventually, he could almost believe that he wasn’t a doctor, never had been. He was Henrik von Schneeplestein, German tourist, handsome adventurer with just enough gray hair and a smile to charm the masses. Lately, though, the smile grew thin, and the bedsheets pulled tighter and tighter.

 

 

Henrik woke that morning with an angry red ring around his throat; he stared at it in the bathroom mirror, trying to decide whether it would be worth irritating it further to shave or not. He sighed, “Verdammt billige Bettwäsche.”

  
His breath fogged the mirror, and he realized just how cold the room had gotten. Either the weather outside had turned, or the room’s air conditioner was acting up. He turned on the water and splashed it in his face, trying to fight off the morning fatigue. Perhaps his vacationing days were drawing to an end. Was he tired enough to go home and embrace his shortcomings all over again? Was he ready to face the others?

  
He was interrupted by a laugh over his shoulder, and he spun around to face it, his heart hammering in his chest. His mind raced as he turned back to the mirror. A tiny crack was creeping its way out from the center of the glass, and suddenly, it shattered. Henrik covered his face and backed away, then screamed when he saw the hand reaching for him.

  
The other tourists and honeymooners barely gave him more than a passing glance as he burst from his room and ran across the sand, desperate to put distance between himself and the figure crawling out of his mirror. The fear twisting around his heart only loosened a bit once he hit the tree line, out of sight of the resort. The heat buzzed in his ears and then, suddenly, nothing at all. There was nothing but his own frantic breathing to break the silence. No footsteps, no biting static, no mad laughter, he was alone. He sighed in relief and stopped running, stumbling to lean against a tree and catch his breath.

  
“ _Looks like somebody’s out of shape_ ,” a voice— h̶͈̺͂̊̌͜ì̸̜̩͔̌͘͝s̶̞̩̑̈́̈́̕ ̵̼͙͎͓̒͋v̸̩͉̿̅o̴̜͕̾̕í̵͙̾c̷̨̳̫̎̔̅͜e̴̤̽̀ —crooned in his ear.

  
Henrik cried out, a feeble, exhausted sound of fear and frustration. Not here, not now, not him. He pushed away from the tree, but a pressure around his throat pulled him backwards, and lifted him up. He choked, kicking his feet and trying to free himself; he clawed long bloody lines into his own throat, but there was nothing to pull, nothing to grab. Blackness swirled in closer and closer, and his struggles grew weak.

  
“ _I think it’s time the Good Doctor made another appearance_.”

  
The pressure was gone, and Henrik was on his feet, choking and gagging and sobbing. He slid down the trunk of the tree, sitting in the dirt as he tried to steady his breathing. The sounds of the island came back, and there was a warm breeze and the smell of saltwater. People laughed and talked and he sat completely unmarked under the tree. Henrik struggled to his feet, dusting himself off as best he could. With utmost certainty, he told himself it had been a hallucination, the musings of a mind breaking under pressure or the result of a sustained lack of sleep. Still, it seemed like a good time to go home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! A comment is always appreciated!


	3. The calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie tries to enjoy a quiet evening.

The house was still, but not silent. He could hear Chase’s snoring from down the hall, and the soft whispers of Marvin’s music. Jameson was pacing, and Jackie could hear the creaking of floorboards whenever he moved across them.

Things had been tense, and even in the haze of late evening, there was a pulse, thrumming beneath the surface. Jackie felt the buzz of it, like an approaching storm; was it just nerves, like he kept telling the others? He’d noticed the date, the anniversaries, the little metaphorical threads that wove through all of them. It was his job to be the optimist, the strong core of them—especially with Jack out of commission. He wished he could do more, make them smile when he himself was starting to crack. Something was coming, and if it was Anti, they were in no shape to fight him.

Jackie’s job was keeping everyone alive, in the simplest of terms. Henrik had been a big help, when injuries and illness and comas had become prevalent, but now Jackie had to be particularly vigilant. Chase and Marvin both seemed hellbent on their own destruction, though their methods and intentions were very different. Jameson was alright on his own, but his silence and overall geniality made it impossible for Jameson to be any sort of leader to the other two.

Marvin was far too moody lately, and Jameson was both well aware of Marvin’s powers and too new to be sure whether the magician was dangerous or not. It wasn’t helped by the way Marvin had accidentally set Jackie on fire over the holidays while they were all very drunk—but that was all in good fun. It grew more and more difficult to picture them carefree anymore. It had been months since they’d enjoyed quality time together, and almost a year since they’d all been together.

Jackie stood up from the couch and busied himself cleaning, not his favorite chore, but he couldn’t stand the thought of sitting still. He washed dishes, staring out the window at the night sky and trying to remember the last time he’d been needed for hero work. The world was going on without them, forgetting about them. Every night lasted longer than the one before it, with days that he couldn’t keep up with. Lately, especially at night, Jackie could imagine that the entire outside world was gone, and they were simply running out their own clocks until the vast darkness wormed its way inside and choked the light out of every last one of them.

Jackie laughed out loud, a nervous reflex. _What the fuck was that?_ He rubbed the back of his neck, then around to his throat that felt suddenly tight. He cleared his throat, then coughed, wheezed and choked. He went to the bathroom, ripping off his mask and his shirt, taking deep gulps of air as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet for anything that might help. Without Henrik, it was a fool’s errand, and he slammed the mirror in frustration. The reflective surface split into a spiderweb of cracks, and Jackie lifted his hand to his throat where a perfect set of fingerprint bruises was blooming like night phlox on his pale skin. The choking stopped, and Jackie stared at the bruises and breathed, tears burning in his eyes. He considered waking up Jameson, in case it should happen again, but he knew it wasn’t some medical oddity he could be assisted through. This was _Anti_.

Jackie almost went to his knees when the front door slammed. He darted back into the living room and froze at the sight before him. Henrik was there looking like he’d just been thrown from a moving train. His hair was unwashed, matted to his head with sweat, and his beard was unkempt; his eyes were sunken and bruised from lack of sleep. Jackie stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, his own scare completely forgotten.

Henrik blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it, and he shrugged off his jacket, hanging it up. He removed his shoes and stared at them a little longer than was necessary, not quite ready to face what he’d left behind for so long. He straightened, turning back to Jackie, and his expression went from sheepish to concerned, “Jackie, what happened to your throat?”


	4. 4. The Doctor Is Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneep gets reacquainted with his housemates.

Once Henrik was finished prodding at Jackie’s neck, they could think of nothing else to do but sit on the couch. Jackie went to the fridge, rummaging inside, “I could get the others.”

“I’m not ready,” Henrik said. “I’m exhausted, and I imagine some of them will want an explanation. I don’t have one that will satisfy them.”

  
“You never know,” Jackie said, returning from the kitchen with a beer for Henrik and a soda for himself. “But I’ll keep it to myself until morning.”

  
“Danke,” Henrik said, taking his beer. “What are you drinking?”

  
Jackie looked down at the red can and chuckled, “Oh it’s a Coke Zero. What was it again? _Same great Coke taste but zero sugar, now with a hint of added vanilla_? Anyway, Chase is obsessed with them right now—when he isn’t drinking whisky.”

  
“Is he still doing a lot of that?”

  
“Worse,” Jackie said. “He can’t sleep without it anymore. I haven’t seen him in the past month when he wasn’t drunk or hungover, and it’s all he can do to keep it from bleeding through when he’s recording. I really need your help talking to him.”

  
Henrik nodded, “Of course.”

  
“I bet you didn’t expect such a mess when you got back,” Jackie said with a hollow laugh.

  
“I was being a coward,” Henrik said, putting down his beer and scratching his beard. “I still am. I haven’t been to see Jack yet.”

  
Jackie touched his throat absently, “Maybe somehow you knew we needed you to come put us back together first.”

  
Henrik smiled, “All things considered, I’d say you’ve done a fine job.”

  
“That was before Anti-“

  
Henrik shot off the couch and went into the kitchen, muttering to himself in German as he worked to finish the dishes Jackie had started on. Jackie watched him for a moment before standing and joining him. He put a firm hand on Henrik’s shoulder, “It’s been a long night already. Why don’t you go have a shower, get some sleep and get your thoughts together?”  
Henrik was shaking, but he nodded, avoiding Jackie’s eyes, “Ja, that’s a good idea.”

 

 

Henrik stepped out of the shower, already feeling a thousand times better. He dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist and walking to the sink. He closed the open medicine cabinet and jumped to see it cracked. He froze, ready for another attack, but after enough time crawled by, he raised his hand to the glass. A sigh of relief escaped him; this mirror was actually cracked. He took the time to tidy up his beard, letting himself calm down fully before dressing and leaving the bathroom.

  
He was instantly slammed into the wall, wrapped in a hug; he laughed and patted Jameson’s back. “Glad to see you too, my friend.”

  
“Should’ve known you couldn’t keep anything a secret from this one,” Jackie said from the couch. “Ears like a hawk.”

  
Jameson’s hands were flying, and Henrik could only catch half of what he said. _Where were you? Did you miss us? Are you back for good? When did you get back? Why didn’t you come and tell me right away? Wha-_

  
Henrik chuckled, “Easy, Jameson. One at a time. I was all over the world, and I only said hello to Jackie and went to shower. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I… I’m not going anywhere, never again. I promise.”

  
Jameson teared up slightly and waved Henrik off, turning away to maintain some semblance of dignity. Down the hall, Marvin’s door creaked open and he appeared, bleary-eyed. He stared at Henrik as if he was still dreaming, and then he started to cry, weeping and laughing all at the same time as he put his arms out, rushing to hug him. “Schneep, you bastard where have you _been_!”

  
“I’m sorry,” Henrik said, returning the much gentler hug. “I’m here now.”

  
“We’ve been terrified,” Marvin said, pulling away and wiping his eyes. His hair was an absolute mess, and he didn’t bother trying to fix it as he padded into the kitchen. “I’m putting the coffee on. No way I’m sleeping tonight.”

  
“Schneep needs his rest,” Jackie called.

  
“It’s alright,” Henrik said. “I sleep better when the sun is up anyway.”

  
“It’s not like Chase will be up anytime before afternoon, either,” Marvin said. “He’s been supposed to do these dishes for three days.”

  
“I’ve been-“

  
“Yeah I know you have, Jackie but that’s not what I’m talking about. This house is falling apart. It’s about time we all took some pride in ourselves again!” Marvin wrestled his long hair into a (less) messy bun and folded his arms. “Starting with Chase.”

  
“We’ve discussed it,” Jackie said. “We need to be gentle. He’s been through a lot, Marv.”

  
Marvin nodded, “Yeah I know, but it’s not like we _haven’t_.”

  
“None of the rest of us have to pretend to be _him_ ,” Henrik said.

  
Marvin’s expression softened somewhat, “I guess housework kind of pales in comparison when you put it that way. I’m just worried about him. He isn’t looking so good.”

  
“We’ll talk to him once we’ve all had some coffee and some sleep,” Jackie said. “All together, and we’ll make sure he knows how much we care about him and how he’s safe to share anything with any of us. We have to come from a place of caring, not judgement.”

  
“I know Jackie I’ve seen an intervention before. You act like I’m not Irish,” Marvin said with a smirk. “Schneep you have no idea what a relief it is to not have to use Google Maps and try to guess where the hell your scrawny ass ran off to. There’s some seriously creepy shit out there.”

  
“Not the least of all me,” Henrik mused. “I should have left a trail for you.”

  
Jameson clapped his hands lightly for Henrik’s attention. _You sent postcards last time._

  
“Right, well, I didn’t really get the opportunity to um… well I was-“

  
“Running,” Marvin muttered. When they all looked at him he threw his hands up, returning to the coffee pot, “If you don’t want me hearing your thoughts, stop thinking them so loud!”

  
Henrik ran his hands through his wet hair, “He’s right, but I’m not ready to talk about it. There will be plenty of time for all that once I’ve seen Jack.”

  
They all fell silent then, a solemnity descending on the room like a shroud; even though Jack had been in a coma for well over a year at this point, it still felt like salt in a fresh wound. The sound of Marvin pouring coffee broke the silence, and he came into the living room passing out mugs before settling beside Jackie, their earlier dispute forgotten.


	5. Stories Untold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We need to talk.

                Chase woke up to a silent house, checking the time again to see if he’d fallen out of bed incredibly early. After a stop in the bathroom, he strolled into the kitchen and started coffee. The hangover was mild, almost all of them were, unless he outdid himself. It was the _functioning_ part of his functioning alcoholism. Chase stood in front of the sink, squinting at the sunlight streaming in the window and scratching himself with a yawn. He turned around as Henrik stepped into the kitchen and his mouth snapped shut. Henrik smiled, and Chase shoved his hands in his pockets, “Schneep? Is that really you?”

                “Good morning, Chase,” Henrik said. “Hard night?”

                Chase laughed nervously, fixing his hat, “Yeah they usually are. It’s good to see you, man. When did you get back?”

                “Late last night, I’m afraid I kept the others up too late,” Henrik said.

                “Things could use some shaking up around here,” Chase said, “So, how was the vacation?”

                Henrik chuckled, “Not as good as the last one, but I suppose that’s to be expected. How has your health been? Your _mental_ health?”

                Chase leaned against the counter, “I haven’t tried to off myself again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

                “It isn’t,” Henrik said. “If you’re depression is-“

                “I’m fine, Henrik,” Chase interrupted, then his expression softened. “I promise. I’ve got things under control.”

                Henrik wanted to say more, but he let it go, and Chase busied himself with the coffee. As Henrik poked around the fridge, Jackie and Marvin came down the hall, engrossed in conversation. Both fell silent when they saw Chase, and the tension was obvious. “Morning,” Marvin said, side-eyeing Jackie.

                “How’d you sleep, Chase?” Jackie asked, meeting Marvin’s gaze and shrugging.

                “Same as usual,” Chase said, glancing over his shoulder. “Morning.”

                Marvin excused himself subtly, ducking back down the hallway. If Chase noticed the tension, he didn’t let on, “Who wants breakfast?” Jackie offered.

                “I’m alright, thanks,” Chase said.

                Marvin came back with Jameson and they sat silently on the couch; Jackie exchanged looks with Henrik and the doctor nodded, “Chase? We were all wanting to sit down and talk. Now that we’re all up, what do you say?”

                “Sure thing,” Chase said. He poured his coffee and then turned around, stiffening slightly when he noticed all eyes on him. “Anything in particular?”

                Jackie moved to sit on the arm of the couch, next to Marvin, and Henrik took the spot beside Jameson, “Why don’t you sit down, Chase?”

                Chase walked reluctantly into the living room, setting his cup on the coffee table and folding his arms, “I’ll just stand. Been lying down all night, right?”

                “We’ve just been worried,” Jackie said, putting on his most diplomatic tone. “About you. You’ve been working yourself a little hard and, _well_ , maybe you’ve been depending a little bit too much on the whisky.”

                “It’s a medical problem,” Henrik said. “It isn’t your fault. It’s a disease.”

                Chase stood dumbly in the middle of the living room, staring at them, “What?”  

                “We just want you to be healthy,” Jackie said. “We’ll do whatever you need, anything you ask.”

                “Except mind your own damn business,” Chase said. “Not one of you ever even offered to help me—to do the videos. None of you even _can_! Nobody complained about this while Schneep was gone, so now that we have somebody who can _handle_ me I have to stop drinking? Fuck you, Jackie!”

                “Chase!” Marvin scolded. “We’re all worried about you! The only reason we waited is because we wanted to be a united front.”

                “ _United front_? What is this, a _war_ to you?” Chase ran his hands through his hair, knocking his hat to the floor. “I can’t do this. Ok? I can’t fucking do this.”

                He left the room before anyone else could speak, disappearing into his room and slamming the door. The others sat in a pregnant silence for a moment before Henrik sighed and stood up, grabbing Chase’s hat off of the floor, “I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.”

                Chase was in his room going through bottles when Henrik knocked and stepped inside. He growled in frustration and threw one of the empties against the wall, “Fuck!”

                Henrik cleared his throat, holding out Chase’s hat. “Let’s go see Jack.”    

                Chase looked at him, his mind working like a mess of rusted gears, but he nodded finally, walking over and taking his hat, “I’m out of booze anyway.”

               

                Henrik stared at the gray sky, having pulled over for the second time to let Chase throw up, “It’s only been eleven hours, you said?”

                “Yeah,” Chase grunted, spitting and wiping his mouth. “And twenty-three minutes.”

                “I can prescribe you something for-“

                “No,” Chase said, climbing back into the doctor’s car.

                Henrik sighed and got in, starting the car, “It isn’t easy to take care of people who won’t accept your advice.”

                Chase smiled, “I’ll take your advice, Schneep, just not your pills.”

               

                The hospital put them both on edge, and Henrik felt naked without his lab coat, but they had more important matters than his job to worry about. Henrik stopped at the nurse’s station to get all of Jack’s updated information, but Chase continued on without him. The room was dark, only a single lamp in the corner of the room was on, just enough for the nurses to do their job. Jack was paler than Chase remembered, and when he reached to take Jack’s hand, he noticed cloth restraints around his wrists. He frowned, “It probably won’t do any good to tell you to wake up, huh?”

                Henrik swept into the room with a chart, “How is he?”

                Chase smiled at the pleasantry; Henrik already knew far more than he did, “Did they mention they tied him down?”

                “He’s been having the occasional seizure,” Henrik said. “Not uncommon, but the first two times he pulled out his IV.”

                “Seizures? What does that mean? Is he getting better or getting worse?”

                “All of the tests are still coming out normal, normal brain stem, normal nervous reflexes, pupils normal, no posturing. His gag reflex is still intact. There is no medical reason for this coma.”

                “We all know the reason,” Chase muttered, gently moving Jack’s hair out of his face with a trembling hand. “So what’s with the seizures?”

                Henrik put down the chart and rubbed at his temples, “Chase, while I was on vacation, I saw Anti.”

                Chase looked up, “You _saw_ him?”

                “He came after me, told me to come home,” Henrik said. “At least I think that’s what he meant. Then, when I got here, Jackie had bruises on his throat, fingerprint bruises.”

                “Christ,” Chase whispered. “He’s coming back.”

                “He never left,” Henrik said. “And running away from him was the stupidest thing I could have done. We need to stick together, not fall apart.”

                Chase nodded, but his vision was swimming, and he quickly excused himself to the bathroom; the muffled sound of his heaving made Henrik sigh, exasperated. He walked to the bathroom doorway, leaning against it, “I suppose you could always vomit on Anti. That would certainly make me second guess attacking you.”

                Chase glared over his shoulder, “Maybe we shouldn’t be joking about him. It sure pissed him off last time.”

                Henrik rolled his eyes, “Ja, nobody knows that more than I do. Get yourself together before we have to start running for our lives again. Take the verdammt pills, Chase.”

                “You know,” Chase said, flushing the toilet and moving to the small sink to rinse out his mouth, “You’re awful cute when you swear at me in German.”

                Henrik’s stern expression softened and he chuckled, “I’ll call the meds in to the pharmacy here, and you’re going to detox in my lab. I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

                Chase raised his hands in surrender, “It’s not like I have anything going on. Oh, except for a livestream next weekend.”


	6. He's Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin hears something unpleasant.

                Marvin scrolled through Instagram, trying to clear his head, but not even the cutest cat pictures could cheer him up. He sighed and closed his laptop, pushing his mask up and rubbing his eyes. He was restless, and Henrik and Chase were holed up in his lab. Marvin knew it wasn’t anything exciting, probably Chase puking himself to death while Henrik chased him with a bucket, but he still—idiotically—felt the sting of being left out. “ _Maybe you should dig those pretty eyes out if they’re giving you so much trouble_.”

                “Very funny, Jackie,” Marvin muttered, looking over at him.

                Jackie was asleep, snoring softly; his head fell against the couch and pushed his mask crooked. Marvin reached and tugged at it, fixing it. Jackie didn’t stir, and Marvin knew he was really asleep—Jackie _hated_ anyone touching the mask. He looked around, putting his laptop aside. Slowly he rose and walked to the entrance of Schneep’s lab, opening the sliding door and letting himself in. His footsteps echoed on the cold tile, and nothing else but the soft hum of machines reached his ears. Inside, Chase was asleep on the cot, pale and soaked with sweat. Nearby, Henrik was slumped in his office chair, a chart dangling in his hand. Marvin took it and set it on the desk. No voices here. Marvin chewed his bottom lip as he stepped back into the hallway. It certainly hadn’t been _Jameson_ talking, so it must have been someone’s thoughts.

                Marvin made a point to avoid reading the other’s thoughts, and he usually succeeded—unless something was too loud. Henrik tended to have the loudest thoughts, and sometimes Marvin heard a little too much from Chase if he was still awake once the late night drinking started. He’d put up wards and walls to keep the thoughts away, but now he needed to hear. He went to his room and sat on the floor, lowering his mask back over his face and taking a few deep, cleansing breaths. When he opened his eyes he could see them, all of his sigils and intentions laid out before him like a glowing chalkboard; he wiped the appropriate ones away with a wave of his hand, and they came almost instantly.

_̷W̴h̶y̶ ̶d̶o̶e̸s̷n̷’̶t̷ ̸C̸h̵a̴s̵e̵ ̷j̵u̴s̵t̷ ̶k̶i̸l̷l̶ ̸h̴i̴m̶s̵e̴l̷f̷ ̷a̸n̸d̶ ̷g̸e̸t̸ ̵i̶t̵ ̸o̴v̷e̵r̷ ̷w̶i̴t̵h̴?̶ ̷H̷e̸n̴r̵i̵k̷ ̶s̸h̶o̴u̸l̷d̴ ̸h̴a̶v̶e̶ ̷j̵u̵s̷t̸ ̷s̸t̸a̷y̴e̴d̴ ̶g̵o̴n̵e̴ ̸i̵f̸ ̷a̴l̶l̶ ̷h̶e̸ ̴c̸a̶m̶e̵ ̸h̷o̴m̵e̸ ̵t̷o̵ ̴d̴o̷ ̶w̷a̸s̴ ̴b̸a̶b̷y̷s̷i̸t̴.̸ ̶M̷a̵r̸v̴i̶n̷’̸s̸ ̵s̷u̶c̴h̸ ̴a̵ ̴m̴a̶s̸s̸i̶v̶e̸ ̷c̴u̷n̷t̸ ̵w̷h̴y̴ ̶d̷o̴ ̶w̸e̵ ̷p̵u̸t̴ ̴u̷p̷ ̵w̸i̸t̸h̷ ̴h̴i̸s̴ ̵m̵o̵o̴d̷ ̴s̷w̴i̵n̷g̴s̷?̸ ̸J̵a̵c̵k̷i̵e̸’̷s̶ ̵l̵y̶i̴n̸g̵ ̵t̶o̸ ̸h̴i̴m̷s̴e̵l̷f̶ ̷i̷f̸ ̷h̶e̷ ̴t̶h̴i̶n̸k̸s̶ ̵h̸e̸ ̴h̶a̴s̷ ̴a̷ ̸c̶h̷a̶n̴c̷e̸ ̸t̴o̶ ̴k̷e̴e̵p̴ ̴t̸h̶i̵n̴g̵s̵ ̸f̴r̸o̴m̵ ̴f̴a̵l̶l̵i̷n̵g̵ ̴a̶p̵a̸r̴t̶.̵_

                Marvin shook his head, trying to clear it. There were more, over and over, but he couldn’t place the voice. He didn’t recognize it. Could it be Jameson? Was Jameson a puppet, like they’d suspected when he first arrived? Marvin tensed and looked over his shoulder, the magical overlay falling away as he stared through his own doorway, straining to listen. The silence was deafening over the undercurrent of whispered venom. He stood, shaking off his dread and walking to Jameson’s door. He listened, hearing the shifting of bedsheets, and he knocked firmly on the door. The movement grew louder for a moment, and then silence. Marvin waited, knocking again, but even the thoughts had faded away.

                Marvin returned to his own room and closed the door, locking it and turning the lights off. He sat down on the floor and gathered his magic, searching out Jameson’s mind with his own, groping in the dark for the silent man’s subconscious. Suddenly the magic around him flared green, and the sigils flared— _burned_. The voice came screaming back, and the words were piercing into his mind. As they grew louder, suddenly his head wasn’t the only thing under an onslaught, and the words etched themselves into his skin, green and bright and burning like fire. Marvin struggled out of the dark space, but he couldn’t stop them, and he screamed, writhing on the floor as each word in his head seared into his flesh. Blood wept out of him slow from the wounds that quickly cauterized one another, until he was a mess of scars and burned flesh. He couldn’t see, could only hear the mad whispers; he tasted blood, smelled himself burning and felt pure, divine agony.

 

                Jackie jerked awake when he heard screaming, stumbling off of the couch half-asleep, “Marv? Marvin!”

                The screams had to be Marvin, and green light was shining from under his bedroom door. He shook the fog of sleep away and ran down the hallway, struggling with the door. He pushed, but there was more than a flimsy door lock keeping him out. “Marvin can you open the door?”

                The delirious, throat-tearing wail of, “ _Jackie_!” answered his question.

                Jackie backed down the hallway, gritting his teeth. He roared as he barreled into and through the door, knocking it off its hinges as he tumbled into the dark room. The light was coming from Marvin, tearing it’s way out through his skin, in the form of words scribbled in elegant handwriting. Marvin was quieter now, his eyes rolled back in his head as he quivered on the floor. Jackie slipped in blood as he reached his friend, pulling the cat mask off and tossing it aside. “Marvin! Marvin what is this? What should I do?!”

                Marvin sobbed in Jackie’s arms, and Jackie picked him up, carrying him to the hallway. As soon as he left Marvin’s room, the green lights died, and the cutting stopped. Marvin choked on a gasp as the worst of the pain finally let go, although he was still _marked_. Jackie set Marvin down and knelt in front of him, running his hand through Marvin’s hair, “It’s ok now. I’ll get Schneep and it’ll be alright.”

                Marvin whimpered, holding onto Jackie’s suit, “Don’t go. Fuck, Jackie don’t leave.”

                Jackie opened his mouth when a muffled grunt came from Jameson’s room over his shoulder. He stood slowly, jumping when the door shook with an impact. Somebody was beating on the door. He glanced at Marvin, then tried the doorknob.        


	7. Gone Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jameson has a visitor.

                Jameson stared up at the ceiling, lying in bed but far from ready to sleep. It had been a long, odd day, starting with a failed intervention, and then unpleasant revelations from Jackie. _Anti_ was back, or at least coming back. Jackie’s throat had made Jameson wince; he remembered cutting himself, his first day, the bite of pain and then the static, the overwhelming feeling of being controlled. He shivered to think it could happen again; Anti had been thankfully bored of Jameson after that first little struggle—perhaps because Anti liked talking too much for Jameson to be of much use. Jameson smiled at the thought, but it was a hollow gesture, and he sighed, covering his eyes with his arm, trying to block out the moonlight that spilled in through the curtains. He was just starting to drift off when he heard footsteps and creaking floorboards outside. He strained to listen, and heard someone—probably Marvin, judging from the light footsteps—walk into Henrik’s lab through the sliding door. Jameson sat up, half-wondering if he should go and check on things. Would it be so quiet if there was trouble? Probably not. Scolding himself for being silly, he stretched back out and finally drifted off.

                _Someone was in his room_. Jameson knew instantly when he woke, and he sat up, looking to the door. It was closed, but someone was standing in front of it, and the moon that had kept him awake was now gone. He rubbed his eyes and threw off his blankets, moving to the edge of the bed. As he was preparing to stand, something hit him like a truck, throwing him back onto the mattress. Jameson’s bedside lamp flickered on and he screamed. Anti laughed, a quiet tittering sound that warped and faded, “Did you miss me, quiet mouse?”

                Jameson squirmed, but Anti was too strong, straddling Jameson’s hips and holding his wrists in a brutal grip. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Jameson struggled wildly against Anti, trying to make enough noise to alert his unwitting visitor. The knife glinted in the lamplight, and Jameson stilled immediately, flinching away. The blade pressed into his throat, and a pinprick of blood welled at the spot. Jameson squeezed his eyes shut, but a heavy backhand across his face brought them open again, and he saw double for a moment, tears burning his eyes. “Keep those eyes on me, mouse. Pay attention!”

                Anti leaned down until Jameson’s vision was filled with glitching, screaming static. They stayed silent like that, intimidation flowing from Anti in waves. After a stretch of deafening silence, Jameson heard Marvin screaming, then Jackie shouting and several loud bangs. The tears flowed freely now, back from his eyes and into his hair as help hovered just outside the door and he had no way to reach it.

                “Just a little distraction,” Anti cooed, tracing his knife up to Jameson’s cheek. “Not that it takes much to distract from you. You know why I came to see you in person first? Because I think we have something in common. I think you’re the most open to me, quiet mouse. So, what do you say? Make this all go away and give yourself to me.”

                Jameson saw the red lines, snaking up from underneath the bed. They swarmed over him, holding him at the waist, digging into his wrists, sliding through the blood of his superficial throat wound. Jameson saw red—in more ways than one—and with a soundless scream he drove one knee up between Anti’s legs.

                Jameson didn’t have enough strength to hurt Anti, not really, but it was enough to distract him, and the threads dissolved into scattered light as Anti jerked away. Jameson rolled off of the bed and scrambled to his feet, running to the door. He fought to open it, then slammed both hands into the wood over and over until Anti was upon him. Anti fisted his hand in Jameson’s hair and gave a cruel twist, pulling his head back. Jameson grimaced in pain, freezing when the blade pressed against his lower eyelid, loud and clear. “Fucking _bitch_ ,” Anti snarled, feedback and wild whispers ringing in Jameson’s ears as Anti hauled him back toward the bed. “Maybe you’d like to be _blind_ , too!”

                The door burst open, and Jackie rushed inside; Anti sneered and wrapped one arm tight around Jameson’s waist before moving his knife down and slitting Jameson’s throat. Then he vanished into static. Jameson gasped, gurgling and spraying blood as he fell backward onto the bed. Jackie rushed to his side, screaming for Henrik.


	8. Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ties that bind.

                Henrik had blood up to his elbows when the paramedics finally arrived; his voice was deceptively calm as he updated them on Jameson’s condition, and the cause of the injury. Jackie had already carried Marvin into the lab to avoid causing a fuss. The magician had been fairly out of it, but he was responsive enough that Henrik was comfortable waiting to treat him. Jameson had gone out long before the medics came for him, and he still wasn’t completely stable. “Edward Iplier is waiting in the trauma bay; he’ll be standing in as primary until I arrive.”

                Henrik squeezed Jameson’s hand one last time as he was loaded onto the stretcher, then he hurried to the lab where the others waited. He walked directly to the sink, washing away Jameson’s blood and peeling off his soiled cardigan. He grabbed a clean scrub top from the nearby locker and pulled it on. All of the ruckus had finally brought Chase out of his half-dead sleep and he was watching from the cot, afraid to get close enough for a good look at Marvin’s skin. Henrik took a calming breath as he gloved up, “Jameson is in the ambulance. Dr. Iplier is going to take care of him. Let’s take a look at-“ Henrik fell silent, startled at the state of Marvin, obscenities and rambling words scarred into his arms and feet, and likely extending well underneath his clothing. “Mein Gott. What happened?”

                “He was in his room,” Jackie said. “It was like his magic was burning him. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I let down… a barrier,” Marvin muttered. “That bastard baited me.”

                Henrik started his work, cutting away Marvin’s shirt and pants; the fabric fell away, revealing a torso and legs as intricately destroyed as Marvin’s arms. Jackie took Marvin’s hand gently, “It’s ok. It’s n-not that bad.”

                Marvin laughed softly, “Yeah I bet I look great. At least he left my face.”

                “He needs your face,” Henrik said, gathering supplies from drawers as he prepared to clean the wounds. “These burns look to be second degree, but…”

                “But?” Jackie asked, leaning in.

                Henrik touched the worst looking wound on Marvin’s abdomen with gloved fingertips. Marvin didn’t flinch, or even indicate that he’d felt any contact at all. “What’s the but, Schneep?”

                “They’re behaving more like third degree burns,” Henrik sighed. “Which means there could be underlying damage to nerves.”

                Henrik prepared a gauze pad with a solution of iodine and saline to clean the burns. As soon as he touched the gauze to the first wound, Marvin arched up off of the table with a strangled cry of pain and the wound flared with green light. Marvin reached to grab for Henrik’s wrist but Jackie held him gently, “It’s ok Marv!”

                “Please stop! Fucking _please_ , Henrik! Stop!”

                Henrik persisted, but each swipe of the gauze just caused more green light, and within seconds Marvin was babbling and sobbing incoherently. Henrik tossed the gauze down on the table, “I’m only making it worse. I’m not exactly an expert treating magical wounds.”

                Silence stretched out as the lights faded and Marvin’s crying quieted to sniffles and sighs, “It’s m-my wards. They’re protecting it. I have to bring them down.”

                “You’re not going back in that room,” Jackie said firmly. “Not when you’re this weak.”

                “I’ll run some fluids,” Henrik said. “I’ll have to put the IV through your internal jugular vein to avoid the markings. Let’s hope it works.”

                Jackie’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration, but he kept quiet. Henrik didn’t make medical decisions about them lightly, and he was doing his best. Marvin nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

                “When I get back I’ll place a Quinton catheter,” Henrik said, gathering his supplies and returning to the exam table. “And once you’ve sorted out those wards, we’ll need to start debridement.”

                Marvin sighed, “Oh goodie.”

                Henrik placed the IV with little difficulty, and no flaring of magical pain on Marvin’s part. He hung antibiotics and saline, checking that everything was running smoothly.

                Chase finally shuffled over, looking green, “Schneep, we better go.” He took Marvin’s hand and squeezed, giving him a sad smile.

                Henrik nodded, “As soon as Jameson is stabilized, I’ll-“

                “I’ll be fine,” Marvin said. “As long as nobody tries to fix me. Just go help him, ok? I was trying to spy on him. I suspected him of—I thought he was a p-“

                “Shh,” Jackie soothed, gently combing Marvin’s hair out of his face with his fingers. “You only did what you thought was right. Anti knew what he was doing.”

                “Find him somewhere comfortable,” Henrik said. “Don’t leave him on this table for long.”

                “He can stay in my bed,” Jackie said. “Anything I should look for?”

                “If Anti comes back, call,” Henrik said. “And don’t let Marvin try any magic until morning. If I’m not back by then, call too.”

                Jackie nodded, “Sure thing, I’ll call.”

                “Good luck,” Chase said, squeezing Marvin’s hand again.

                “You too,” Marvin said as Chase moved away, and he watched them go with a sigh, trying to hide how scared he was.

 

                Jameson was in surgery when they arrived, and Henrik left Chase in Jack’s room to go and scrub in. Chase curled up in the chair beside Jack’s bed and fell asleep to the rhythmic beeping of monitors in the dark room. He stirred when Henrik and Edward stopped outside of the open door, opening one eye as he listened to their soft voices.

                “He’s lucky to be alive. What the hell happened?”

                “Anti,” Henrik said.

                “Shit,” Edward said. “Sorry. How are the others handling it?”

                Henrik was quiet for a moment, “We’re doing what we have to. Danke noch einmal. I owe you.”

                Edward smiled, “Maybe you should consider officially coming off sabbatical. It was good to work with you again.”

                “Once this is all dealt with,” Henrik said as the other man turned to leave. “Edward?”

                He turned around, hands in the pockets of his coat, “Henrik.”

                “Would you keep Jameson under your care, until he is released? He needs a watchful eye, and I’m stretched thin.”

                Edward nodded, “You got it.” Then he swept down the hallway, a nurse jogging to join him with a stack of charts.

                Henrik stepped into the room then, closing the door and smiling when he saw Chase was awake. Chase sat up straighter, “How is he?”

                “He’ll be fine,” Henrik said. “His trachea has been repaired, and no arteries were damaged. It could have been much worse. If Anti hadn’t been in a hurry-“

                “Yeah,” Chase said. “So how long does he have to be here?”

                “It depends,” Henrik said. “He’s breathing just fine, but for now his jaw is sutured to his chest to keep his trachea from splitting again. If things heal quickly enough, he’ll be home and back to normal before you know it, but we mustn’t rush these things.”

                Chase glanced over his shoulder at Jack, “Yeah, I know all about that.”

                Henrik frowned then, not happy about what he needed to say, “Chase, about Jack.”

                “What?”

                “The seizures are coinciding with Anti’s attacks.”

                “Wait,” Chase said. “So when he has a seizure it’s… Anti coming after us?”  
                “The timeline fits,” Henrik said. “He had his most violent episode tonight before we arrived. Anti is either exploiting Jack for the energy to come for us, or Jack is fighting him to protect us. If the seizures continue to worsen, they could cause severe brain damage, even death. Either way, this coma will end by Jack’s hand, not ours. There’s a good possibility he’s already suffering some neuron loss by now.”

                “So what do we do?” Chase asked, “What the hell do we do?”

                “We end this,” Henrik said. “Once and for all. I have some ideas, but I need time. How are you feel-“

                “Don’t ask that, Schneep,” Chase said, sinking back down into the chair and pulling his knees to his chest.

                Henrik moved in front of Chase, “Chase.”

                “Fuck,” Chase muttered. “I don’t know. My hands won’t stop shaking. Earlier I forgot I was on the way to the bathroom and that’s why I ended up puking in the sink—sorry about that, again. I can’t stop sweating and I just want a drink so goddamn bad I would probably punch you if you had alcohol on you right now. None of this matters because Jameson almost got fucking murdered, and Marvin looks like one of those really fucked up zombies that survive explosions and shit. You remember those ones on that tv show? They were melted to the asphalt and-“

                “I remember,” Henrik said. “Chase I kept you with me because I expect you to report your symptoms. You’re in danger too, you know.”

                “When am I not?” Chase said.

                “I want to admit you here, just for a night or two, to be safe.”

                “Schneep I’m not going off to some room all by myself,” Chase said.

                Henrik smiled, “You can stay here, with Jack. Keep an eye on him while I go and help Marvin in the morning. Alright? Anti’s already physically manifested once. If he does it here, with nobody to defend Jack, it could be over before we even get a chance.”

                Chase sighed; Henrik was humoring him again, but he nodded, “Sure. I’ll watch Jack.”


	9. Try To Fall Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase, Marvin and Jackie have some issues staying asleep.

                Jackie woke up and stretched, almost falling out of the chair he was sleeping in before he remembered where he was. He was draped over the armchair in his room, Marvin in his bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked over at the magician, but found only a empty bed and abandoned IV stand. He jumped to his feet, adrenaline instantly washing away the last tendrils of sleep as he darted out of the room, “Marvin!”

                “It’s alright,” Marvin called, his voice hoarse and soft. “I brought them down. Come see!”

                Jackie rushed to Marvin’s room. The magician had collapsed onto the floor, his mask returned but skewed by his fall. He had lost his shirt at some point, but was still dressed in his baggy sleep pants; Jackie could see that Marvin’s skin was smooth and clear, and he was beaming an exhausted grin. Jackie frowned and picked him up, carrying him out into the hallway, “Schneep left strict orders for you to rest tonight, Marvin.”

                Marvin’s head lolled back, his long hair cascading over Jackie’s arm, “I was itchy. Besides, I did it.”

                “You did it, alright,” Jackie said. “You can’t even hold your head up.”

                “Sure I can,” Marvin said with a sleepy smile as he closed his eyes. “I just don’t wanna.”

                Jackie sighed, “You’re going back to bed and you’d better not move until I get the ok from Schneep.”

                “Fine by me,” Marvin yawned.

                Jackie stepped into the livingroom and stopped, looking over his shoulder, “What?”

                “What?” Marvin mumbled sleepily.

                “My bedroom I… I missed it.” He turned and walked back down the hallway. The lights blinked out one by one, leaving them in pitch black darkness, and Jackie almost crashed into the wall when it appeared in the place of Marvin’s doorway. “ _What_?”

                Marvin opened his eyes and took in an upside down view of the hallway as something started to growl behind them, “Um, Jackie?”

                “Did you say you took _all_ of the wards down?” Jackie asked quietly.

                “Yeah,” Marvin whispered, staring past Jackie’s arm into the dark livingroom where a pair of glowing green eyes had just opened. “I think you should put me down.”

                “Marvin I can’t just-“

                “Jackie,” Marvin said. “Turn _around_.”

                Jackie turned and quickly sat Marvin down on the floor. “Stay here.”

                “No shit,” Marvin grumbled. “Go get em, tiger.”

                Jackie took a defensive stance, and the thing advanced, showing itself. A massive black _hellhound_ of a creature, snarling and dripping green saliva that glowed in the dark stalked forward, eyes locked on Jackie. The hero glanced back to Marvin who was trying to pull himself into a sitting position, still completely drained. Jackie exhaled, ready to protect his friend from this new, decidedly unpleasant intruder. When it was in range, he let out a bellow and jumped on the beast.

 

 

 

                “Jack? Oh fuck!” Chase shouted as he pulled out his own IV and raced to Jack’s bedside.

                Chase had seen seizures before; his son had febrile seizures when his chickenpox had given way to pneumonia. He’d needed to be strong then, for Stacy. She couldn’t stay in the room while he rolled the boy onto his side and watched the clock, muttering sweet encouragement to his son while he prayed it would stop. Back then he had been in charge, confident, the patriarch of his family, but now he was a shaking, pathetic shell of himself, and Jack wasn’t just reacting to a fever. This time, he wasn’t the one in charge, or even capable of doing anything besides crying and babbling, so he reached and pushed the emergency button on the bed. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the rail, “Jack, Jack I’m sorry I can’t stop this. I’m sorry I’m so weak when everyone else is so strong. I know you want me to be happy, and I can’t even do that for you. I swear Jack if you just wake up, just come out of this I’ll be better. I’ll be stronger.”

                A nurse rushed in, and seconds later Henrik followed with two more nurses, “How long has he been seizing, Chase?”

                Chase stammered, trying to remember, “I… I don’t know. I don’t know-“

                “I can get the readout,” the youngest nurse said, ducking out.

                Henrik nudged Chase away from the bed, “It’s alright Chase. I’m here.”

                “Doctor do you want me to push Diazepam?”

                “No,” Henrik said. “No medications, we need to observe this episode.”

                “Schneep!” Chase shouted, “What are you doing?!”

                Henrik met Chase’s eyes, and there was a hint of guilt, but then he picked up Jack’s chart from the end of the bed, “Nurse, please escort the patient back to his bed.”

                Chase backed up a step, jerking away from the man who reached for his elbow, “Don’t fucking touch me! You’re letting him _die_!”

                “Call for an orderly and give him Midazolam,” Henrik said, taking one last look at Chase before pulling the curtain that separated the two halves of the room.

 

 

 

                The house was filled with otherworldly snarls, grunts and Jackie’s enthusiastic one-liners. “Sit, stay, roll over!”

                Marvin had managed to pull himself to the center of the hallway, “I need a sharpie, Jackie!”

                “What?” Jackie called over his shoulder, taking a heavy paw to the side of his head.

                “Sharpie! Top left drawer in the kitchen, get me the big one!” Marvin called.

                Jackie rolled onto his stomach and caught the dog with a kick to the throat, jumping to his feet and ducking around the black mass to get to the kitchen. After rummaging through their collective junk drawer, stopping only to duck a blow or return one of his own, he found the marker, rushing out of the kitchen and tossing it down the hallway. It bounced along the carpet, stopping at Marvin’s knee. “Air mail!” Jackie declared proudly.

                “Fucking dogs!” Marvin groused as he struggled with the sharpie lid. “Why did it have to be dogs!”

                “I like dogs!” Jackie called back, jumping back to avoid a bite. “Just not this one!”

                “So put it down already!”

                Jackie tried to blink the sweat out of his eyes, “Oh alright well now that you’re behind this I’ll get serious.”

                Marvin finally got the lid off with his teeth, spitting it out and getting on his hands and knees as he carefully laid out a circle of symbols around himself. “Sarcasm isn’t your color, Jackie.”

                The monster bit down onto Jackie’s shoulder, its massive jaws like a bear trap as it pinned him against the wall. Jackie cried out in pain, but he was in his element. Anti had finally given him something he could _hit_ , and he couldn’t be happier. Jackie drove his fist into its nose, and it instinctively threw him aside, snorting and snarling. Jackie bounced to his feet, driving a powerful kick into the beast’s mouth, and grinning at the resounding crack of breaking teeth. He let his eyes snap to Marvin again, checking in, “How’s it going?”

                Marvin didn’t answer, but his eyes were glowing, and the black sharpie markings were starting to follow suit. Every now and then, the light stuttered like a shorting lamp, and Jackie could see blood trickling down Marvin’s chin from his nose; he was struggling. Jackie wanted to stop him, to take on the burden, but they would both have to bleed tonight. The walls of the house creaked and shifted, and Jackie winced as the sound set his teeth on edge. The empty shortened hallway suddenly stretched and warped, and the doors appeared in their proper place.

                Jackie had managed to wrestle the dog into some form of submission, arms wrapped around its massive neck and squeezing. The creature huffed and gagged, and Jackie held fast as it began to weave and stumble. Suddenly the light in Marvin’s eyes went out, and he slumped against the wall, but the lights of the circle around him blazed brighter, and beneath him the monster’s eyes dulled as it settled on the floor, limp. Jackie jumped up and ran to Marvin, wiping away the blood as best he could, “Marv?”

                “I bound it here,” Marvin said, “Get us out.”

                Jackie picked Marvin up, “You know, if I have to keep carrying you like this I’m gonna get a backpack to put you in like a baby.”

                Marvin’s lips twitched, “You’re lucky I’m exhausted.”


	10. The end is near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (not so) calm before the storm.

                Henrik was sitting at the end of Jack’s bed when Jackie and Marvin came in. Jackie was pushing Marvin in a wheelchair, and the magician looked more than annoyed. “What happened?” Henrik asked, standing.

                “Oh don’t worry I’m just here to give birth,” Marvin muttered gathering his hair up behind his head. “Does anybody have a rubber band?”

                “Something happened with Anti,” Chase muttered from his bed. “Right?”

                Marvin raised an eyebrow, using a rubber band from Henrik to tie his hair back knowing full well he’d regret it later. “Good guess, you psychic now?”

                “We have a theory,” Henrik said. “ _I_ have a theory that Jack’s seizures are linked to Anti’s manifestations. What we don’t know is the exact nature of this link, whether Anti is leeching energy from Jack, or if Jack is fighting him somehow in a subconscious state.”

                “Tell them the rest!” Chase muttered. “Tell them what you did.”

                “Chase I had good reason to-“

                “Tell them!”

                Henrik shifted, “I observed Jack during his latest seizure.”

                “ _Observed_?!”

                “Chase, please,” Jackie said, trying to regain some semblance of peace.

                “You should’ve seen the look on his face! He just let it happen, Jackie!” Chase cried, his wrists pulling against the restraints.

                Jackie sighed, “Schneep, are the restraints really necessary?”

                “Of course not,” Henrik said. “The orderlies were just following security protocol. Unfortunately, when I got close enough to free him, he tried to headbutt me.”

                “Chase!” Jackie scolded.

                “He was using Jack like a guinea pig!” Chase said, red-faced. “It’s not cool! It’s not even remotely cool!”

                “We can’t afford to be fighting like this,” Marvin said. “Just let Schneep say his peace. The least we can all do is listen.”

                Chase sank further into the bed, closing his eyes, “Yeah I don’t have the energy to go after him anyway. I doubt I could make it across the room.”

                “I’ll go and get Jameson,” Henrik said, leaving the room.

                Jackie walked over and took off Chase’s restraints, “What a mess.”

                Chase sat up, pulling his knees to his chest, “I don’t like this, Jackie. Just don’t let him hurt Jack.”

                “I won’t,” Jackie said.

                “ _We_ won’t,” Marvin added.

 

               

 

                Jameson looked _tired_ , fundamentally worn down like he never had before, but he smiled when he saw them. His jaw was pressed down to his chest, sutured in place to let his trachea heal, and he had to look _up_ to see them, so he resigned himself to mostly listening. They took comfortable places in the room and Henrik stood at the foot of Jack’s bed to speak.

                “My proposal is that we continue to observe until we can figure out whether these seizures are parasitic in nature, or if they are caused by Jack himself. Once we have a good idea of which, we either heavily medicate Jack to stop them entirely—the dosage could be detrimental to his long-term health but it would effectively weaken Anti _or_ we continue to let the seizures go on uninhibited and attempt to provide support after the fact to soften the blow as much as possible regarding the neural death these seizures will eventually cause.”           

                Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then Marvin spoke, “So you let the seizures kill his brain, or you over medicate him which could also potentially kill him. Isn’t this way too fucking dangerous? Haven’t you already-“

                Jackie grabbed Marvin’s knee, silencing him, “We’ll think about it. It’s a lot to take in, but we have to do whatever is best for Jack. Without him, what’s the point?”

                “We all have lives, people to protect,” Henrik said with a pointed look at Chase.

                “I don’t,” Marvin said. “And neither does Jameson. We’re here because of Jack, and that’s it. Maybe you and Chase have kids, and sure Jackie has the whole stupid city enamored with him, but not us.”

                “I don’t see how this is relevant,” Henrik said. “It isn’t as if none of us existed before he came into our lives. We simply have a very strong connection-“

                “And the same face,” Marvin said. “Yeah, totally coincidental. Listen, Henrik. I respect your opinion on medical matters, but I’d appreciate a little more respect from you when it comes to the metaphysical.”

                Henrik rubbed at his temples, “Fine fine,” he said. “I understand. Jack is extremely important. I love him as much as the rest of you. I just… if we could defeat Anti for good—actually get rid of him, wouldn’t that mean Jack would always be safe even if he is mildly damaged? Wouldn’t it be better for all of us, especially you and Jameson who Anti seems to be the most interested in tormenting this time around?”

                Jameson tapped his hand on the arm of his wheelchair. _I don’t want to be used as the reason to put Jack in danger. Please don’t do that._

Henrik’s cheeks reddened, “I’m not unreasonable. I see the rest of you want more proof, a more solid theory before we put any plan into action. I’m willing to comply. Just give me a few days. In the meantime, Marvin, you need to cleanse the house. We can’t all just stay here indeterminately. Once your strength is back the two of you take Chase home.”

                “I thought you wanted him with you,” Jackie said.

                “He’s an adult, and he’s requested to be released from my care.”

                Chase nodded, “He’s telling the truth. I have to get home, and I don’t want to get sedated again for having an unpopular opinion.”

                “Chase you were getting _physically_ aggressive,” Henrik muttered.

                “Enough,” Jackie said. “This is getting old fast. We’ll take Chase home, and you’ll come home too, at least once a day, Schneep. Like you said, we shouldn’t be overtired, and we shouldn’t be spread so thin. If Anti shows up without you there I’m not going to be able to hold anybody’s veins together while we wait for the ambulance. That’s just a simple fact. I’m very clumsy.”

                “Once my magic is back together I can heal,” Marvin said. “But I’m not a doctor. I might be able to stop a blood geyser or mend a scraped knee but I’m not going to be setting any bones or curing a hangover.”

                “Detox,” Chase muttered.

                “What?”

                “I’m in detox. I’m not having a fucking _hangover_ , ok? I’m not that much of a pussy. But thanks for your vote of confidence.”

                “Chase stop being so sensitive,” Marvin said. “We’ve all been through shit these past few days ok? Look at Jameson and tell him you’re _detoxing_.”

                Jameson looked up with sad eyes, once again being used as a pawn in someone else’s argument. He signed _sorry_ to Chase, and Chase nodded.

                Jackie stood up, eager to interrupt another budding argument, “Come on, Marv. Let’s go try to find a good place to nap. The trauma waiting room had those long benches.”

                “Oh good, my beauty sleep,” Marvin said, but he yawned. “Jamie, do you want a ride?”

                Jameson waved them off with a forced smile, nodding to Henrik and wheeling himself over to Chase’s bed. Henrik left the room with a stiff gait, a lack of sleep and aging joints were catching up to him. He returned to his office for another long night of researching.

                _I’m sorry about what Marvin said. It isn’t fair to compare us._ Jameson told Chase. _What you’re going through is just as dangerous, and it’s got to be hard, because you’re strong. You’re doing all of this for Jack and you have two little ones to worry about._ He hesitated then, glancing at the open door. _I’m sure Marvin didn’t mean what he said, but he was still wrong to say it. I hope we can talk again when I’m feeling better. I get these confounded jaw stitches out tomorrow and I can’t wait to look up again!_

Chase chuckled when Jameson made one of his exaggerated faces, “Thanks Jamie. You’re a good man too, you know. I’m sorry I doubted you so much when we first met.”

                Jamie smiled and shrugged _What can you do? Goodnight Chase_.

                “Goodnight,” Chase said, watching him go. He scooted down into the bed and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the dull nausea at the back of his throat. The IV was keeping him hydrated, and nutrients flowed the same way, but he both missed and dreaded the thought of food. How long had it been since he’d eaten a Pop-Tart? _Or had a sip of whisky?_

Chase flinched away from that thought, “Jesus Chase don’t be an idiot. You’ve come this far already and things are bad enough without you thinking that way.”

                _Whisky has always been a better friend than any of these bastards. Why don’t you just get your weak ass out of this stupid bed and go find some? It’s not like anybody is going to come looking for you. Even Jack knows you’re worthless now. You cracked under pressure like an egg._

                Chase covered his ears, “Fuck you, Anti. I know it’s you. Don’t waste your time.”

                There was no nagging laugh, no glitching in his ears, and Chase paused, wondering why Anti was being so shy all of the sudden.


	11. Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major self-hatred and suicidal themes ahead. Proceed with caution.

                The hospital room was dark and quiet, and Chase felt at odds with himself. Something wasn’t right. Everyone else had suffered physical trauma, some of it permanently damaging, and yet Chase had been left completely alone. Was it because his psyche was already broken? Life was already half over for him, or maybe Anti was looking for Stacy and the kids. Henrik had no idea where his own family was—on purpose—after the last incident where Anti had possessed him. Chase had always been more selfish, blinded by the desire to see his children, to try and make it work with Stacy. It could still work, right?

                _Please, Chase. Stacy knows what a child you are. The only thing you ever did was make those idiotic videos for your defunct YouTube channel that was just a laughing stock for ex-Viners anyway. Commentators made double the revenue from your videos that you ever did and Stacy had to work full time just to cover your ass. The kids had to have a different shitty agency babysitter every evening and twice Stacy caught one of them stealing from the house. You could never be home on time, and the kids were lucky if they saw you once or twice a week. You’ve always been the worst parent and the worst husband. You never matured past twelve years old and now you’re the big weepy equivalent of a drunk toddler. All you ever do is vomit, shake and complain. At least when you **were** drunk you were sort of funny half the time. Now you’re the least entertaining person in this entire city and that’s saying a lot. You’re a pathetic, worthless spineless worm, unworthy of being called a man, a husband, a father—you’re barely human. You massive failure. _

_There’s so little appealing about you that it’s a shock any of the others will even give you the time of day. It’s why you always have the feeling Marvin doesn’t like you. He doesn’t like trash. Jackie is constantly worrying about you, and Henrik just wishes you would die and get it over with so he can go back to treating patients he cares about. Jameson, well, he’s the worst of all. He **pities** you. You’re the most pathetic person he’s ever met and he can think of nothing better to do than just tell you what you want to hear and wait for you to leave the room. If you aren’t careful, you’ll end up a sad, stupid puddle all alone and praying for death a long time before it comes. Once you’re sober do you think your depression will just go away? You’re gonna have to get on Henrik’s pills and they’re gonna make you tired all the time or jittery and your dick won’t work—not that it was ever anything to be impressed by. Stacy used to laugh about it with her mother, and damn does that lady ever **hate** you. You were never worthy of her daughter, and she would give up her own grandchildren if she could make it so you never existed. Stacy can try again with a better man, and the memory of you would no longer be a stain on the family. _

_Why don’t you just get it over with and everyone can get back to their lives? Kill yourself and maybe this time you could try getting it right, instead of failing so hilariously. What kind of fucking moron can’t even shoot themselves in the head correctly, Chase? Who the fuck can’t **get that right**? You were probably too chickenshit to go through with it weren’t you? You were so selfish that you’d rather live this fucking pathetic life than give Stacy or your kids the freedom to move on. Even now, when this detoxing could kill you, you’re accepting the medication and pretending like you’re contributing at all when honestly you’re the biggest **speedbump**. Everybody is just standing around waiting on you, Chase, so what the fuck are you gonna do? Do it, Chase. Go out like a fucking man. Take that goddamn tie that Henrik left and kill yourself. You can loop it on the end of the bed, sit down on the floor and just let go. You aren’t hooked up to any monitors. Nobody is gonna come check until 3 am when they come to look in on Jack. Fuck, they might not even notice you, just step over your fucking stupid legs and go on about their day. That would suit you, just fading into the background like one of those fake skeletons at a haunted house. You’re a prop in your own life you worthless, pathetic, selfish-_

                Chase screamed and jumped to his feet, his knees shaking but keeping him upright. He ran his hands through his hair, tears streaming down his face as the voice shouted again and again for him to kill himself. He looked at Jack, whimpering at the thought of leaving the others, but they were better off without him. He’d attacked Henrik, sniped at Marvin, fought Jackie and refused to get help until it almost killed him. Now Jack was lying in this bed under Henrik’s control, and Chase couldn’t even stop that. There was an absolute lack of ability to do anything inside of Chase. He picked up the silk tie, running it through his fingers. It was expensive, so it would probably do a good enough job. He’d learned about knots from his father when they’d gone out on a boat. He’d retained enough to teach his own son, although he’d never gotten old enough before Stacy had taken both the kids and gone. Maybe teaching the knots wasn’t such a good idea after all. Did depression run in his family? It was hard to tell.

                Chase paced the room again, rubbing the silk against his face. It felt good, and it reminded him of the green dress Stacy wore on the day he proposed. It had been so gorgeous. He’d been planning it for weeks, and then he had almost lost the ring. He’d always been a fuck up, but Stacy had found it endearing once. He could still see the look in her eyes that he had once mistaken for love. It was pity, or longsuffering, or outright annoyance. He knew that now, the way she’d looked at him then when he asked. She had been waiting for someone else to come along, and Chase had been her backup plan. So she’d said yes. Neither of their kids had been intentional, and she had cried both times she found out she was pregnant, but Chase had been so proud, so excited. He loved his kids so much, even though sometimes he wasn’t at home to play with them, or take care of them, but if Stacy had an emergency, he’d always come home. Just like the chickenpox.

_How long are you going to keep falling back on that fucking chickenpox story? Being a decent dad to one of your kids once doesn’t make you father of the year._

                Chase heard that in Stacy’s voice, because it had been her that said it, when he missed his daughter’s birthday party. He hadn’t meant to, but things get in the way, and time is tenuous and sometimes his phone wouldn’t remind him of things. Chase laughed bitterly at his excuses, and how even now at his lowest point he was still trying to pass the blame.

_Fucking typical, Chase. You always do this! Do you know how humiliating it was explaining to my mother why my husband wasn’t at his daughter’s birthday party? Do you know the way our friends looked at me?_

                “I’m sorry, Stace,” Chase said. “I really didn’t mean to miss it. I just got caught up.”

                _Caught up, right, your real passion, right? The thing that really matters to you? Well maybe Bro Average can comfort you when your daughter asks why you don’t love her, because that’s what she asked me! And I almost couldn’t convince her that you do. I almost couldn’t convince myself. It gets a lot harder every time you do this._

“No, Stacy I love all of you! You’re my world! Don’t say things like that. I’m just… I’m just forgetful, ok? I’ll make it up to her.”

                _How Chase?_

“With this,” Chase murmured, looking at the tie again, “I’m sorry, baby. You know Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world. He just forgets. But he’s gonna make it up to you now, baby.”

                He walked over to his hospital bed, hands steady as he secured the silk to the bed rail; he took the bed remote and sat on the floor.

                _Don’t worry, Chase; how many brides can say their husband knew how to tie a tie on their wedding day, anyway? It’s kind of romantic, but keep your eyes closed! You can’t see me in my dress!_

                Chase closed his eyes, and he could smell Stacy’s perfume when she leaned in, fixing the tie around his neck. She kissed him, and he smiled, pressing down on the bed lift button.

                _I love you._


	12. Winning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anti chats with an old friend.

                Jack was in the dark, on his back, he knew that, but not much else. He sat up and found himself connected to the bed with flimsy cloth straps and several tubes and wires. He managed to get out of one wrist restraint and undo the other, pulling out needles and electrodes. He choked as he tried to breathe on his own and realized he had a tube—or two—down his throat. He pulled the big one out first, dissolving into a coughing fit and then gagging around the remaining tube. It went through his nose into his stomach, and his body cramped around it when he pulled it out, heaving as his gag reflex went haywire. He fumbled and lowered the bed railing, sliding off onto his feet. Instantly his muscles gave out and he fell to the floor with a yelp. _What the fuck?_

                He couldn’t walk, not even a little. His legs were completely ignoring his requests to get up and carry him. He crawled to the windowsill and pulled himself up, shaking as his legs ran with pins and needles. It was an agonizing few minutes, like getting fifty tattoos all at once—one was alright, two wasn’t great but anything beyond that was unreasonable. When his legs finally woke up, he stepped away from the window, looking for his phone. It was nowhere to be found, but what he did spot was his own chart. He read it, but the words—although appearing English—were jumbled and blurred, and he couldn’t make sense of it.

                “You can’t see something you haven’t seen for real.”

                Jack spun around, “Anti?”

                Anti smiled a cheeky smile, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I like the dress, Jack. It suits you.”

                “What the hell is going on?”

                “Oh, we’re in your brain,” Anti said, his voice sounding bored as he picked his thumbnail with his knife. After a moment he glanced up at Jack, “What?”

                “What the fuck are you talking about?” Jack said, looking back at the chart. “I can read! I’ve done it before! What the hell is this?”

                “I told you, idiot,” Anti growled, his voice sizzling on edge. “You’re trapped in your own brain. You’re welcome for that, by the way. It seemed fitting. Unfortunately, I got stuck in here with you.”

                “Well I’d like to get out. I’d sure as hell like _you_ out!”

                Anti rolled his eyes, “We can agree on that, but don’t worry. I’m close. If you didn’t have such a stupid thick skull I’d already be home free, but drilling my way out hasn’t been easy.”

                “You’re _drilling_ in my brain?”

                “Metaphorically,” Anti said, shrugging. “But don’t act so uppity. This is nothing compared to what I’ve done to you. I’ve killed you twice, remember?”

                “I didn’t die,” Jack said. “I’m not Jesus.”

                Anti scoffed, “That’s not how your precious little _egos_ put it. They’re so fucking annoying, all sitting around _oh no what do we do about Jack oh no Jack save us_!” Anti cackled. “I’ve never met less capable people in my life. Where do you find these assholes?”

                “I just seem to collect them,” Jack muttered. “So why aren’t you trying to kill me?”

                “Don’t need to,” Anti said, checking his reflection in the blade. “They’re all at each other’s throats right now. I just had to get them fighting—it was so easy. You really didn’t teach them much did you?”

                “I didn’t exactly get a lot of time to, thanks,” Jack said. “So how are you going to get out of here then?”

                “I’ll just piggyback into one of them—or all of them. Do that little puppet thing all of your little fans quiver about in their messages. It’s easy, but I do need someone willing to start. Who do you think it’ll be? My money was on Mustache, but he kicked me in the dick.”

                Jack grinned, “Jameson kicked you in the dick? Remind me to get him a cake when I get out of here.”

                Anti scowled, “Maybe it’ll be Chase. He wants to die anyway. I might show up and promise to take the pain away. They always fall for that line don’t they? I’ll give you the void, the nothingness. I’ll take you out of this shitty reality. He’s the kind of idiot to fall for that. Say! What about the good doctor? He’s playing awful fast and loose with your brain. Half of him wants to suffocate you and see if that’ll kill me too. He’s practically doing my god damn job for me! Can you believe it?”

                “Leave them alone,” Jack muttered.

                “What was that?”

                “I said leave them alone, Anti. I _made_ you, in case you’ve forgotten. I can get rid of you too.”

                “Oh I would love to see you try, Jackaboy,” Anti said. “Because I’m not the little goblin you made. I’m not even the one _they_ made. See, I change, grow, shift with the times. I’ve become something no one could ever have expected. I’m absolutely giddy with the thought of it. When I show up and announce that I’ve won, finally won. Of course, by the time that happens there won’t be many people still around I guess. You know, puppets are all around, just waiting for their marching orders. There might not be strings on me, but I’ve sure as hell got them on everybody else. I guess I should thank you for that. You gave me these tight pants, the ear gauges, this pretty face. Without all the thirst this really wouldn’t have been possible.”

                “What’s the point of all this then?” Jack asked. “If you’re just gonna take over, what, the whole world?”

                “I’m just like you, Jackaboy. I love the attention. It gives me all the downstairs tinglies.”

                Jack pushed away from the windowsill, walking to the room door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge, and the door and wall seemed to be one solid piece. Nothing moved at all. “So I’m just stuck here?”

                “Don’t worry,” Anti said. “You’ll be back to sleep soon enough. We just had a busy day is all.”

                “Busy day?”

                Anti nodded, “I can take over a little bit and push my way out to fuck with them. It’s easy, but it pisses off your brain. I guess I shook you a little hard this time, since you’re up and about like this.”

                “And what’s to stop me from fighting you?”

                Anti laughed again, and the sound glitched and jumped, making Jack wince. Anti held his sides, his form glitching more as he lost himself in the humor, “What? You gonna fight me with your ass out in a hospital gown? Sure, let’s go. You can whack me over the head with the IV pole.”

                Jack leaned against the wall, “This is my brain, so what’s stopping me from taking control?”

                Anti stood, walking over to Jack. He grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head back and pressing the blade to his throat, “Go ahead. Take it.”

                Jack tensed up, grabbing Anti’s wrist, and then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp, dead to the world again. Anti rolled his eyes and hauled Jack back to the bed, “Pain in the ass. Try to stay there until I’m done working next time. I got shit to do.”


	13. Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three different uses for Alcohol.

                The waiting room was empty except for the two of them, and the nurse had learned to ignore them by now. It wasn’t comfortable, but it beat the current hellscape of the house. Jackie arched away from Marvin’s touch, “Fuck that’s cold!”

                “Now who’s the baby?” Marvin muttered, but he was smiling as he swiped the disinfectant over the ugly, jagged bite wounds. “A cat would never bite you like this, by the way.”

                “I think if Anti sent a demonic cat monster after us I would be dead because you would have taken its side,” Jackie said, hissing as the alcohol stung its way into the bites. “And I bet demonic cat scratch fever is way worse.”

                Some of Marvin’s hair had escaped from the bun he’d put it in, and he tucked it behind his ear, trying to concentrate as he counted holes. “Forty-two holes, so it got you with its entire mouth. That is disgusting.”

                “Yeah it didn’t feel great,” Jackie agreed. “Done torturing me?”

                “For now,” Marvin said. “I’m going to sleep now. If anyone wakes me up I’ll kill them.”

                “Good to know,” Jackie said. “I’ll make somebody else do it if I need you.”

                Jackie folded his hoodie up and set it on his shoulder so that he and Marvin could share it as a pillow. Marvin curled up, knees and elbows tucked in and nuzzled in against Jackie. Jackie slumped, his body limp and relaxed as he let the rhythmic sound of Marvin’s breathing rock him to sleep.

               

 

 

                Henrik sat at his desk with his head in his hands. The smell of formaldehyde tickled his nose, coming from the samples he’d brought in. The brain wasn’t an easy thing to decipher, and it was made almost impossible when the brain in question defied science the way Jack’s did when it brought them all together. Even his memories of meeting Jack, and arriving here were fuzzy, although he knew that he and Chase had lives, children and failed marriages beforehand. Jameson had almost no memories beyond the general knowledge of the time he’d come from. His inability to speak seemed tied to it in some significant way, and perhaps there was power in his quirks. He was the only one among them that had physically defied Anti with any success. It made Henrik jealous, when he thought of his own battle with Anti, and how easily he’d been taken.

                Now he was so desperate to avoid that again he was willing to put Jack’s life in danger. He’d destroyed his friendship with Chase, and in doing so Marvin and Chase had turned on one another, dragging Jameson along with them.

                Henrik’s cellphone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He answered, dropping the jar in his hand as the voice on the other end spoke. It shattered on the floor and the sharp, acidic smell of methanol filled his office as he raced out and down the hallway. The room was close, and he had no time to mentally prepare himself before he was crossing the threshold.

                Chase was blue, and there was a brutal V bruised along his jawline where the tie had pulled tight; Edward was intubating when Henrik entered, and he glanced over before concentrating on Chase again, “Blood oxygen saturation?”

                “Ninety-one percent, doctor.”

                “Heart rate?”

                “Fifty-nine, doctor.”

                “Push Atropine, get that heart rate up!”

                Henrik watched, feeling helpless, and he picked up his phone again, sending a message with shaking hands.

 

 

 

                Marvin shook Jackie awake, “Jackie get up! Chase tried to hang himself.”

                Jackie jerked awake, flashbacks racing through his mind, but then he realized it was Marvin beside him, and this wasn’t a memory. “What? He tried to… to what?”

                “Henrik’s in the room he says they have him stabilized. He fucking hung himself with a necktie after we left the room. Jesus Christ, Jackie I just told him-“

                “Don’t do that,” Jackie said, wrapping his arm around Marvin’s shoulders and pulling him close. “Come on. He’s stable, right? He’s going to be ok, and we’re going to help him through this. Nothing you said did this to him, Marvin. He’s sick. He’ll need our support, not our guilt.”

                Marvin squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that wanted to start, hiding his face against Jackie’s shoulder. It was going to be a bad night.

 

 

 

                Jameson hated himself for what he was going to do as he walked into the room, bottle in his hand. Chase was awake. He looked at Jameson and blushed, ashamed of himself. Jameson frowned and sat down beside the bed. _Hello Chase_.

                “Hey Jamie.”

_I’m tired of seeing you suffer like this. You can’t be blamed for everything that happens to you. Sometimes it really isn’t your fault. Sometimes you have to do what you can to take care of yourself. I won’t judge or try to change you. I promise. I’m here for you however you are. I brought this. Do you want it?_

                “God yes I want it.” Chase whimpered.

                Jameson held out the bottle and Chase’s chin quivered as he took it. He stared at it, reading the label, feeling the cool glass, opening it and smelling it. _Shit_ , he started crying for it.

                Jameson smiled sadly and touched Chase’s shoulder. The action pulled at the stitches along his throat and made the jagged pattern stand out even more. They were damaged goods. Chase sobbed then, shaking so hard he was afraid he’d lose the whisky, but Jameson took the bottle, poured his first glass and held it for him to drink.

                After the first glass chase could breathe again, and it hit his throat and chest like cleansing fire. He took a shaky breath and wept, reaching for Jameson’s hand who took his and squeezed, “Thank you Jamie. Thank you thank you fuck thank you so much. You’re my hero.”

                Jamieson stroked Chase’s hair gently, smiling. _I’ll join you. Don’t worry. We’ll share it, and I’ll stay here all night. I don’t have anywhere else to be. By morning you’re going to feel better and all of this will be like a bad dream._

                “Bad dream,” Chase said.

                Chase wished it could be. He could still smell Stacy’s perfume and hear the gentle sounds of her wedding dress as she knelt in front of him, but the whisky was already fading her away, already freeing him from the terror in his heart. It burned away the bad things. After a second glass his hand stopped shaking so hard, and he could hold his own cup. It was sending him down into a warm safe spiral, like arms waiting for him. He sighed and smiled and when he finally slept, it was a hard, heavy sleep that enfolded him. Jameson was already snoring at his side when he went out, and their hands were still clasped together. They were brothers, brothers making the best of a bad situation.


	14. Dark Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures in pumpkin carving.

                Jameson fell asleep slowly, slipping into the darkness like a warm friend’s embrace. He woke up at the table, with the pumpkin in his hand, and a smile spread across his face. He knew how to carve a pumpkin! It was one of his favorite things to do; Halloween was his favorite holiday, after all. He took the knife from the table and carefully set to opening the pumpkin up, jumping when he cut himself. He flung his hand and sucked the blood off of his finger, but it quickly welled back up.

                _That did more than tickle, doc._

                Jameson stood up from the table, looking around slowly and picking up the knife. Blood flowed down from his hand to patter on the floor, and he grinned. His heart was racing, and he felt tightness at his throat, wrists and waist. Something was pulling, pushing, _compelling_ him forward. He held the knife so tight it shook in his hand. The others were close. He could practically smell them. He stepped out of the room and lingered momentarily in the doorway before his eyes traced down a dim hallway. Music was pounding at one end, and a television was going at the other. He slipped through the shadows, slinking into the bedroom next door first.

                Sad music played and a man sat at his desk crying, a photograph in his hand. Jameson slid up behind him like an assassin, taking his head in one hand and slicing into his throat. Veins and tubes and all of that fragile human wiring split and opened up, and stained the room red. Jameson smiled, a sweet innocent expression, and left the room after wiping his knife off. His sleeve up to his elbow was stained with hot blood, but it only made him more excited.

                He went into the next room where the music was blaring, and he grinned. The magician stood up and shouted something, but Jameson could only hear buzzing. There was concern in his eyes, but Jameson was fast, brutally fast, and he jumped on the magician before he could so much as pull a rabbit out of his hat. The knife went into his chest like it was cutting warm butter, and Jameson stabbed again and again until the blade wedged into a vertebra, and he had to wrestle it free. The magician made a few little gurgles, but no comments beyond that, and his work was almost done.

                Jameson went back into the hallway, now covered in blood and gore. He flipped the knife in his hand playfully, whistling silently to himself. The lab door slid open and a doctor stepped out. He was surprised too, and he barely had time to yelp before Jameson stabbed him in the throat, cutting the sound off. He left the poor sap behind him, already as good as dead, and he set his eyes on the last goalpost. The hero was curled up on the couch, napping but his face was uneasy, and maybe he knew what was coming.

                Jameson moved in, but the hero snapped awake, raising his hands in defense. Jameson grit his teeth, using all of his strength, but he was thrown free. The knife dissolved into smoke and panic rattled in his chest until it reappeared in his hand. Jameson tipped his hat to someone who wasn’t there, and the threads tightened, pulling him forward again. The hero was in a panic, calling for the doctor on the floor, and Jameson moved, swinging the knife and catching the man across the stomach. It was a deep, merciless cut, and the hero pressed one hand to the wound before punching Jameson. It hurt, badly, and Jameson saw stars, but the threads held tight, pulling so hard that his wrists had started to bleed. It made him feel good, the blood flowing hot and fresh out of his body. He laughed silently, his mouth wide and twisted. He felt madness buzzing behind his eyes as he turned the knife inward, slicing along his own cheek to spill a little more of that delicious blood. The master wanted blood, all of their blood, and Jameson’s eyelids fluttered when it started to bead up and flow down his cheek.

                The hero moved away, his back to the front door, but Jameson knew he wasn’t planning to leave the others. He had no idea that the other two were long dead, and the doctor’s heart was so slow it might as well have been gone, a casual afterthought, a life not worth saving. Jameson licked his lips and threw the knife as hard as he could, catching the hero between the eyes and splitting his mask in two. He watched him fall, and he heard the doctor give his last death rattle, and then Jameson fell to his knees. The threads loosened, fell away, and Jameson hid his face in his hands and wept as his mind was freed. The salt stung the cut on his face, but he was numb, hollow, empty. He’d been used to destroy people, people who had welcomed him, and he would do anything to take it back. Anti had taken control, and now he didn’t even have the decency to leave Jameson’s mind blank. Even the knife, Jameson’s only chance at peace, was gone, and so he curled up on the carpet and wept blood and tears and regrets until his body finally gave in to sleep.

                Jameson jerked awake and almost fell out of the chair he’d been draped over. He glanced over to see Chase still very much alive, snoring rather loudly. Jameson began to cry bitter, frightened tears. _I’d never hurt you. I’d never hurt any of you! I promise. I promise._

Jameson reached for the whisky bottle and tipped it, finishing the remains of the alcohol before walking to the sink to wash his face. He looked up at himself and saw the red scars along his throat. He frowned, tracing his fingers over them as he imagined them as red threads, pulling tight and cutting off his mind as he lost control. Jameson left the room and walked down the hallway, the soft hospital noise of beeping monitors and busy nurses comforted him as he ran from his nightmare.

_Never_. _Never again, damn you. I’ll never let you make me hurt anyone. I’ve beaten you twice, and I can do it again. I’m not afraid of you… not anymore. I’m stronger than you, because I have people that I care about._


	15. Abandoned and exiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin suffers some neglect.

                Marvin opened his eyes and let out a slow breath. He was in Henrik’s lab. _When had he gotten here?_ He moved, and felt something shift inside of him. There was a large, long catheter-like needle going into his neck just shy of his shoulder. He reached up and touched it, tracing it to a pole with two bags of fluid. He sat up slowly and whimpered. The scars pulled when he moved. _The scars?_

                He threw back the blanket and his body was covered in the words, those utterings of violence and hate, and Marvin let out a sob. He moved to the edge of the bed and tried to stand, but he fell, crying out as his body collided with the floor.

                Henrik was there in an instant, “Marvin why do you always have to cause such a fuss? Why can’t you just stay put and make things easier on everyone?”

                Marvin frowned as Henrik pulled him back to the bed, “Schneep?”

                “Just be quiet and sit still until your debridement, alright? You’ve been nothing but trouble since you were hurt and there are more important things I could be doing than picking you up off of the floor. Jack is still in a coma, you know, but here I am, with you.”

                Henrik left his side briskly, and Marvin curled into himself on the bed. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. He had cleared the burns with his magic, but now as he tried to gather his powers, pain just shot through him wherever it touched the wounds on his body, and he sobbed, pulling the blanket over his head.

                He stayed that way until Henrik pulled the blanket away roughly and dropped it on the floor, bringing Marvin’s bed to the other end of the lab where a large tub waited. He prepared a solution, iodine and salt and something else Marvin didn’t recognize, and then he pulled Marvin to his feet. Marvin wobbled, but Henrik kept him upright until he sank into the water. It was like acid, and Marvin cried out, trying to stand up out of the water, but failing. Henrik rolled his eyes and knelt beside the tub, scrubbing at Marvin’s skin with an abrasive brush. Marvin tried to escape but Henrik held him firmly by the shoulder, squeezing harder than necessary, and Marvin yelled for Jackie, for help, for _anyone_.

                Jackie came in, “Schneep can you not keep him quiet for once!”

                “He won’t let me do my job,” Henrik said. “You can hear how he’s being! Come and hold him before he pulls out his CVC again!”

                Jackie groaned and tossed the remote down onto Henrik’s desk, walking over and pinning Marvin down in the water by his shoulders. Marvin had to hold perfectly still to keep his face above water as Henrik worked his skin under the water. It was soon stained red and Marvin had tears and snot running down his face unhindered, “Jackie please. Schneep, please. Please help me. This isn’t right. I fixed it. I stopped it. Please, I just need my magic. I just need-“

                “Shut up!” Jackie snapped, pushing him a little more roughly against the bottom of the tub. “Your magic caused enough trouble don’t you think? Just let Henrik do his job so we can get on with our lives.”

                “Alright,” Henrik said. “Flip him over.”

                Jackie moved Marvin like a doll, and this time Marvin was sputtering and struggling to keep his face out of the red water, shaking from the pain and effort. His entire body was on fire, nerves screaming and fizzling and his heart breaking at the words said by his friends. As if everything Anti had written on him was completely true. Marvin began to get lightheaded, only catching his breath when Jackie pulled his face out of the water. Before long, he felt his head drop, his forehead hitting the tub, and he heard Jackie mutter, “Finally.”

                When Marvin woke up, his body was throbbing in agony, and he whimpered. He looked around, finding himself strapped down to the exam table. The restraints were stained with his blood, and his entire body was weeping fluid from Schneep’s latest treatment, the salt drawing out everything from the wounds. He wept again when he heard the television outside, and the scattered laughter of his housemates. “Marvin’s been quiet,” Chase said. “Thank god, huh?”

                “Yeah, Schneep knocked him out with some sedatives so he should leave us alone most of the day. I just wish he would have died instead of hanging on like this. What kind of a life is it if we have to keep taking care of him?”

                Henrik spoke then, “Don’t worry. He probably won’t last that long. He keeps going in and out of shock, and I’m pretty sure he’s got an infection setting in. We’ll just let it run its course, and once he’s gone, we can get on with our lives for once.”

                “You think Anti knew how much we wanted rid of him or was he just tired of Marvin too?” Chase asked.

                “Anti never does anyone favors,” Jackie said.

                “Neither does Marvin!” Chase cackled, and the other two roared with laughter, the sound twisting and glitching until all Marvin could hear was static and screaming and his own sobs, spiraling down into madness with each passing moment. They wanted him gone. They wanted him out of their hair. He was a burden. His magic was useless. He got himself hurt. He caused all of this. Even Anti knew how unpleasant Marvin was to be around. He’d done them a favor, really. Marvin pulled the blanket up to his chin and shivered in the cold, sterile air of the lab, trying to ignore the way the blanket stuck to his body, and turned red in several patches over time as he tried not to listen to the increasingly hurtful gossip from the next room.

                Tears stung Marvin’s eyes when he woke up. How long had he been crying? The woman at the desk gave him a look before going back to her game of solitaire, and Marvin looked up at Jackie. The hero was still peacefully asleep. In a brief moment of panic, Marvin checked his arms. No markings, and his magic was thrumming within him like a heartbeat now. He laid his head against Jackie’s shoulder and took comfort in the other man’s presence. They were together, all of them, and nobody was dying.


	16. A way out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hero falls short.

                Jackie woke up on the couch, hearing the screams. He rubbed his eyes and stood up, stumbling as his brain struggled to work. Suddenly he realized, it was Marvin screaming, and the green light shone under the door. He sprinted down the hall and threw his shoulder into it, trying to break it down. The wood shook and creaked, but nothing budged. Marvin’s cries grew louder and he was babbling, crying, terrified. He screamed for Jackie again and again, begging for his help. Jackie kicked at the door, throwing every bit of his weight into it until his ribs cracked and his knuckles bled. “Marvin! Marvin I’m coming!”

                “Jackie it hurts! Jackie help! Help me! Fucking help me make it stop! Why aren’t you helping?!”

                Jackie let out a sob as he suddenly heard pounding and struggling from Jameson’s room. _Oh god, no!_

                He went to Jameson, but It was more of the same. He could see the shadow under the door, and hear Anti’s growling threats, the ensuing struggle, the bed creaking in protest as Anti tortured Jameson—or made him a puppet, or stabbed him over and over while Jackie threw himself against the door. He moved his efforts a few feet to the side, trying to come through the wall, but nothing worked. He went outside, flying up to the window, and he could _see_ it. Anti was sitting on Jameson’s legs, and the red threads were choking him, like a million snakes all wrapping and writhing over him until all that was left was one of Jameson’s hands, reaching toward the window, begging for help just like Marvin had. Jackie hit at the glass, tried to pry the window open, screamed at Anti to stop, but Anti just smiled at him. There was no reason for the glitch to be afraid now.

                Soon, Anti stood up, leaving the writhing pile of thread be, and he opened the door. Jackie raced back into the house, but Anti was disappearing into Marvin’s room, and the door was—once again—impossible to break through. Marvin’s room was harder to see into through the window. The room was dark, and the random flashes of green and blue light made it impossible to decipher much until Marvin was strung up by his throat, and the lights flickered on. Those damned threads were holding him, choking him, and Anti was smiling again, carving the words with his knife this time instead of hijacking Marvin’s magic. He would stop every few moments to lick the knife clean and grin at Jackie, giving him a little wave. Marvin had gone limp, and his expression was dull, but he stared at Jackie, sadness plain in his eyes. Jackie whimpered and shook his head, closing his eyes, “Fuck no! Please, god, no!”

 

                Jackie jerked upright and Marvin was looking at him with wide eyes, “Shit are you ok?”

                “Not really,” Jackie said. “Nightmare.”

                “Me too,” Marvin muttered. “A real fucking bad one. I really want to get out of here, Jackie. This place is fucking me up.”

                “I understand,” Jackie said. “It’s almost morning. They said Jameson is going to be discharged this morning, and Chase… well, he’ll be on suicide watch for another eighteen hours or so. We could all go get some real rest, then come back and pick him up.”

                “Right,” Marvin said. “So go tell Henrik. I’ll just wait here and rest my eyes.”

                Jackie smiled and shook his head, “Try not to have another nightmare.”

                “Fuck you I better not now,” Marvin said, curling up in the chair.

                Jackie walked down the hallway, still shaking from his nightmare as the brave façade crumbled away. He’d been helpless. The things he’d seen Anti do, the things he’d stopped the first time. They had really dodged several bullets so far, and Jackie wasn’t sure how long their luck would continue. Just how long can five men get along by the skin of their teeth? Especially when one of them was actively _trying_ to die? Jackie was overwhelmed, and he wished Jack was awake to talk to. Jack always had something encouraging to say, something practical, reminding Jackie he didn’t have to do it all alone because… Jackie couldn’t remember why anymore, but Jack was always so sure.

                He bit his bottom lip and continued toward Henrick’s office. They had a lot to talk about, and Jackie would have to put his foot down about Jack. There was no way they could risk him now, not after all of this, not after Chase and the way they’d all felt when they thought they could have lost him. He went to Henrick’s door and knocked, checking the time on his phone and hoping the doctor was awake.


	17. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik sees his family.

                Henrik was walking down a street that seemed familiar, lined with small shops and crowded with people. He heard them speaking German, and realized he was home. He looked around frantically, confused. He _couldn’t_ be here. Anti would find him. Anti would find _them_. Sophia, Emma, Mila, even that bastard Rick. They were in danger, but he couldn’t just leave now that it was already too late. He had to find them. He didn’t know a current address—he’d instructed Sophia not to tell him where they moved to—but he remembered where Rick _had_ lived, and Sophia’s parents’ home. It was an easy walk.

                Rick’s house was no help, boarded up and clearly uninhabited. Henrik continued on his way to the in-laws, and there he knocked on the door. He was ready to receive an unpleasant welcome, hostility, confusion, and he felt most of those things for himself in that moment. _Why would he be here? Why would he risk it?_ The door opened a crack, but nobody was there. Henrik pushed the door in further and stuck his head inside, “Hello? Sophia? Girls?”

                The house was quiet, and Henrik didn’t like it, but he stepped inside. It had opened, after all. Sure, it might’ve been wind and negative pressure, but best to be sure. The house was as he remembered it from all of the holidays and Sunday dinners. Sophia’s mother Maren kept an immaculately decorated home. Pictures littered the walls. Some had Henrik in them, the girls’ birthdays, the photos just after their births where he and Sophia were both exhausted, bloodied messes with impossibly wide smiles. Delivering his own children had been the single best experiences of his life, and his heart ached when he realized just how long it had been since he’d seen his daughters. More recent pictures had Rick standing in his place, but the girls seemed happy, and Sophia was radiant. Henrik nodded, feeling able to make peace with the fact that she had moved on. After all, their life together hadn’t been easy.

                Henrik’s thoughts flowed backward in time to their marriage, when they’d planned their lives so carefully. Sophia had been a concert pianist, and he’d been a reasonably successful surgeon. They’d had Emma first, and the joy was unbelievable. They both shared the work equally, taking the parental leave and making the most of it, but when the leave came to an end and they both went back to work, Sophia’s parents started the guilt.

                Sitters were cheap, and they were good, well-trained and just as in love with the baby as any sitter can be. However, Maren insisted it was a woman’s job to stay home. Henrik had even offered to quit his own job.  He would gladly parent while Sophia pursued her dreams, but Sophia’s mother had convinced her that it was impractical for a doctor to give up his job so that a musician can keep hers. Henrik hated Maren for that. Even though her parents pushed it, and Henrik fought for Sophia, she gave in to them, and she had to watch him leave every morning for the hospital. Then he would return in the evening, sometimes two or three days later with tired but happy eyes, full of stories. Henrik took a moment to contemplate how much Sophia must have hated him, must have resented his freedom, enough to push her into the arms of another man—but he hadn’t come here to reminisce.

                The master bedroom door was open, but it sat oddly on its hinges, and Henrik could smell something familiar, thick and heavy and sharp. As he approached it became clear. _Blood_. It hit him like a brick. His in-laws were in bed, or Henrik assumed it was them. The bodies were headless, half-flayed, limbs hacked away and arranged around the room. Henrik clapped his hand over his mouth, seeing the large, wicked, _familiar_ knife jammed into the headboard. _Anti_.

                The other two bedrooms off of the hallway were empty, so Henrik ran upstairs. The attic was empty, bright and warm, no sign of Anti or his family. He returned to the main floor and went through the door to the basement stairs. The basement light was turned on by a chain hanging in the middle of the room, so Henrik stepped cautiously through the darkness. When he pulled the chain, the basement exploded in light, and three voices began to call to him, but they were muffled.

                His wife and two daughters were tied to chairs, gags stuffed into their mouths. The girls had tear streaks down their face and Sophia looked broken and tired. Henrik rushed forward but something hit him in the back of the head, and everything went black.

                _Not so fast, good doctor. I wouldn’t make it that easy for you to save them, would I?_

               

                Henrik came around slowly, pain throbbing through his head into his neck. He groaned, trying to lift a hand to the wound, but he was hogtied, laying on his stomach. He rolled onto his side, and he was almost exactly where he’d fallen. He could feel something wet and warm and sticky at the nape of his neck, and assumed it was blood. “Anti! Let them go!” He wished his voice didn’t sound so groggy and tired.

                “Why would I do that? I want you to make a decision.”

                Henrik clenched his jaw, “I said _let them go_!”

                Anti laughed and the sound of it stuttered and warped, “I Don’t think so, Schneep. They’re too valuable to me.”

Emma looked at her father and begged behind the gag. _Help us, daddy. Make him stop hurting us!_

                “Choose,” Anti said _._

“What?”

                “Choose who dies. I’m killing one of them right now. If you don’t choose I’ll kill all three of them.”

                Henrik looked at Sophia. Her eyes went wide and she nodded. He didn’t hesitate, “Sophia.” She had given him the signal; he had to protect their children, and she would have done the same to him to save them.

                Anti walked up behind her and slit her throat, holding her face still so she could look Henrik in the eyes while she died. “Good work. That was fun wasn’t it? Although I usually like my deaths to be more dramatic. Next!”

                “You said-“

                “Choose one to live,” Anti said, his face split by a wild grin.

                “What?”

                “Why do I have to keep repeating myself?!”

                “No, Anti! Take me! Make me your puppet. Take me instead and let them go!” Henrik begged, tears stinging his eyes. “Please!”

                Anti’s eyes narrowed as he walked up behind Mila, “You’re not ready. Soon, but not yet.”

                “Yes I am! Take me, damn it!”

                “No decision then?” Anti said, sliding one hand under Mila’s chin. The younger girl burst into tears, her whole body shaking as she screamed and sobbed.

                “God damn you, Anti, take _me_!”

                Anti shrugged, slitting her throat. She struggled for a moment, gurgling and heaving, but the life left her fast. Anti moved to Emma, ignoring Henrik’s hysterical pleas and repeating the process. Emma tried to put up a brave front for her father, squeezing her eyes closed and holding her breath, letting her head loll forward instead of pulling away from Anti. Henrik couldn’t hear her last breaths over his own cries, but he didn’t have to.

               

 

 

                Henrik opened his eyes when he heard the knock on his door. He sat up and looked around, and tears slid down his cheeks as he realized it had been a nightmare. “Gott sei Dank.”

                He rose to answer the door, wiping his eyes, “Ja? Oh… Jackie, what is it? Is everything alright?”

                Jackie didn’t look alright, but he nodded. “Marvin and I are going to wait for Jameson to be released, then we’re going home. We’d like you to come too. Then we can all come back for Chase. We need some sleep, and we need each other, and we need to think about what we’re going to do without risking Jack.”

                Henrick nodded, “Jack is too important; without him, we are at Anti’s mercy alone. Chase was right. You were right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was desperate.”

                “You wanted to protect us,” Jackie said. “I understand—and so will Jack—but for now, wrap up that research and get ready to go home.”

                Henrick returned to his office, closing the door and thinking over his dream. He curled his hands into fists and swore softly; he would die himself before he let Anti hurt his family and nothing could stop him. He gathered his files and papers, stuffing them into his briefcase before grabbing his lab coat and cell phone. He locked his office behind him, and turned around, almost running into Jameson.

                _Sorry Doc_. Jameson smiled, but it looked forced. _You still up?_

                “I’m afraid so,” Henrik said. “I believe we’re all going home as soon as you’re discharged this morning. It won’t be long. You should get back to your room.”

                _Chase too?_

“As soon as Chase is released we will come back for him. How long have you been up walking?”

                Jameson looked sheepish and shrugged. _A couple of hours. I couldn’t sleep._

Henrik nodded, “I believe that’s been going around. Now, get back to your room.”

                _Yes sir._ Jameson saluted playfully, then turned and went back in the direction of his room.


	18. Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new dad.

                Chase stepped into his home, looking around for his family, “Stace? Kids! I’m home!”

                There was laughter coming from the family room, and Chase made his way there, running into Stacy in the hallway, “Stacy!”

She passed right through him, only shivering slightly as she did, but she gave no indication she noticed him beyond that. Chase looked down at himself in confusion, then continued to the family room where his kids sat playing Mario Kart with—him?

                The interloper turned and grinned right at Chase, and he could see the faded scar around his throat, and the way his eyes flashed black for a moment before he turned back to his game. Chase darted forward and tried to haul Anti up off of the floor, but he faded right through him. He reached for his son, to ruffle his hair like he always used to do, but it was the same with both of the children. “Anti,” he growled. “Get the fuck away from my family.”

                Stacy came into the room and sat on the edge of the couch, leaning down and kissing Anti. Anti’s eyes met Chase’s and he made a show of it, until Chase had to turn away, his stomach turning. Chase wiped the tears from his eyes and realized how helpless he was. Anti was _stealing_ his family. When the kissing came to a merciful end, Stacy stood up, “What are we having for dinner, gang?”

                “Bacon!” the boy shouted.         

                “Pancakes!” his sister echoed.

                Anti chuckled, “Looks like breakfast for dinner. Are you sure you can cook, babe? Why don’t you rest some, put your feet up before they swell.”

                Stacy put her hand on her stomach and sighed, sinking back onto the couch, “You’re going to make dinner, Chase?”

                “Of course,” Anti said. “If I can make a baby I can make bacon.”

                Stacy shushed him, and Chase’s blood ran cold, “Well to be fair this is the third one, but I’ve never seen you make food before. I’ll just sit on the couch with the fire extinguisher.”

                “If you insist,” Anti said. “Then I’ll rub your feet afterward. Ok kids last round! Then daddy has to go cook!”

                “ _You’re_ gonna cook?” the girl asked. “Since when?”

                Anti chuckled and tickled her, “Don’t doubt your father! I have many talents.”

                The girl squealed and slapped his hands away, “Cheater!”

                Chase couldn’t look away, as sick as it made him; he couldn’t drag his eyes from his family. When Anti stood, walking to the door, Chase didn’t budge until Anti cleared his throat, “Going to the kitchen now, if anybody cares to join me.”

                Stacy stretched, “I’m good. I got comfortable.”

                Anti chuckled, and Chase made himself leave the room, following Anti to the kitchen, “What the hell are you doing?”

                Anti glanced over his shoulder, “Oh hey, Chase. Pretty interesting how happy your family is now, huh? All I had to do was become the exact opposite of you. Thanks for the new wife, by the way. Stacy, man, she’s amazing. No wonder you had two kids before you were even able to support yourself.”

                Chase ran at Anti, stumbling right through him, “I’ll fucking kill you! Stay away from them!”

                “Calm down, Chase. I’m letting you see them. Isn’t that nice of me? You should say thank you.” Anti ignored him then, busying himself with the breakfast he’d promised to make.

                Stacy walked in, and Chase burst into tears, “Stacy baby, please. You have to hear me! He’s dangerous!”

                “Chase, babe, I saw the new Bro Average video you finished editing. I think it’s your best yet,” she said, walking up behind Anti and kissing his cheek.

                “Yeah? That’s because you’re so supportive. Plus, I have to take care of our family,” Anti said, “It’s growing, after all.”

                Chase grit his teeth when Anti touched Stacy’s belly. “Yeah, three kids,” Stacy said. “You’re sure it won’t be too much?”

                “No way, babe!” Anti said. “We’re great parents. Ever since I stopped drinking, we’ve been perfect, and I actually got this stupid channel turned around and made something of myself. Now’s the _best_ time to have another baby.”

                “Ok ok you’re right,” Stacy said. “I should really just start trusting you. I just remember how you used to be. Be patient with me, Chase.”

                “Babe I owe you everything for taking me back. Now, go put your feet up and I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”

                Stacy smiled, “You’ve convinced me.” She left them, walking to the bedroom— _their_ bedroom.

                Chase went to his knees, covering his ears and hiding his face, “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This can’t be happening.”

                Anti walked to Chase’s side, kneeling beside him, “Why does it even bother you? You don’t even want to be alive. You went— _what—_ three days without alcohol and ended up hallucinating and trying to hang yourself? I haven’t even laid a finger on you yet and you went completely out of your mind. It’s pretty funny, right? You almost died without me doing a damn thing. How pathetic.”

“No,” Chase whimpered. “That can’t be true.”

Anti looked up when the bacon on the stove popped, “Well, duty calls. Good luck with um… whatever way you try to kill yourself next.”

                              

 

                Chase jerked awake with a mournful gasp that hurt his throat. He looked around, and Jameson was nowhere to be seen. Ten feet away, Jack slept, and Chase sobbed in frustration as he fell back against the pillows. “That better have been a nightmare you green fuck.”


	19. Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie starts a new hobby.

                Jackie flew over the city, glad to be out after so many days of drama with Anti. He’d helped with a small bank robbery early in the day, and now he was dragging his feet returning home. Marvin had things under control of course, but he still felt a little guilty. He was needed, probably, and if he was needed, the last thing he wanted to be was gone.

                He’d started to notice the missing posters about half way home. They were lining the streets, on every available surface. Jackie counted at least fifty different people on the fliers, and there were probably more. He made a detour to stop by the police station. They didn’t like him there, not really, but sometimes they’d give him tips if the person at the desk was the woman he had a decent relationship with. She reminded him of Marvin, and that alone made it easier to talk to her.

 

                Jackie stepped out of the station with a packet of information. Everyone had gone missing on the same day, the day of Jack’s massive seizure, and so far none had been found. Jackie had a sneaking suspicion that Anti was behind it, but how could he manage to torture Chase into suicide _and_ kidnap this many people all at once? Anti was fairly omnipresent, but not usually on the physical plane—unless they were severely wrong, and severely fucked. Jackie’s heart dropped as he raced back home.

 

                The house was buzzing with soft activity, and Jackie went to his bedroom, tossing the small stack of files he’d been given on his desk. He sat and rummaged through the desk drawers until he found an empty notebook He opened the journal and started writing, chronicling everything they’d experienced starting with Chase emerging from the recording room that day. It had all started with that, and with Henrik returning, and the bruises on his throat and then the attacks. People were going missing, and Jackie had to account for them somehow. It was exciting, being a part of something again, and he tried to ignore his guilt at the exhilaration of getting to be the hero.

                He flew daily, patrolling, checking common places and seeking out trafficking ring informants he knew from previous cases. Nobody knew anything, and it became increasingly obvious that Anti was behind it. But where was he keeping them? And why? Was he just massacring this many people somewhere? That was unlikely, as much as Anti liked attention, and how he savored torture and pain and fear. He would have at least made a spectacle of them, and that made Jackie nervous. If they weren’t dead, were they puppets? Anti usually left his puppets at home, sleeper cells, waiting in plain sight until he needed them, but with this mass exodus, Jackie wondered if they were doing his bidding somewhere else.

                Aside from the missing people, the world had started to warp. People weren’t responding to phone calls, and it seemed like no one existed outside of the city at all. The only exception was Jack’s channel. Videos could go up, comments rolled in, and no one noticed any change. What had Anti done to close off the entire city from the outside world? It wasn’t just the five of them, either. Cable and internet had gone out over the entire town, and phones couldn’t call out. Only Jack’s computer could reach anyone, and it was very specific _how_ it did so.

                On the channel front, everything seemed fine, but there was a looming livestream, and Chase still wasn’t 100%. Jackie worried about that. The illusion was important. Without the channel, they were letting Jack down, letting a part of his work and his legacy die, and it was like giving up on him ever waking up. Marvin took notice of Chase’s diminished state and started helping, maintaining the social media presence—something he was infinitely better at than Chase. Almost anything that didn’t require his face, Marvin could handle. It was perhaps his way of making things up to Chase, and it seemed to be working. They were starting to heal, inside and out, and it was quiet—but not always eerily.

                Chase had seemed more himself when he had arrived home, although Jackie did notice his hands were no longer shaking, and he hadn’t thrown up once since the suicide attempt. It was comforting to assume he’d gotten through detox, but science and reason dictated otherwise. Jameson was spending a lot of time coming and going. He claimed he was taking walks to calm his mind, but he always went straight to Chase’s room when he got back. Chase said he was planning to do another Jameson video, to give himself a break, and they were plotting, but he didn’t let Marvin or Jackie or Henrik in on any of it, and the secret was guarded closely.

                Some days the music got a little too loud, and Chase would sleep a little too long, but Jackie tried to stay optimistic. Henrik left to go back to work regularly, and Jack’s seizures stopped almost entirely. They didn’t affect him physically anymore, and he was starting to show some increased brain activity from time to time. That very well could have been a sign of Jack waking up. Henrik stayed positive, and the others tried to follow his lead, but increasingly so Jackie was worrying. Worrying about the missing people. Worrying about the closed off nature of their town. Worrying about Chase and Jameson and what the hell was going on with Jack and with their magical computer.

 


	20. Infected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik returns to work.

                Henrik went into work that morning, in official capacity, and wearing his nametag again felt nice. Several of the nurses and volunteers greeted him, and he felt truly at home again. He ran into Edward in the hallway near his office, “Edward! Good morning!”

                “Henrik,” Edward said. “I’m glad I ran into you, actually. I was wondering if you’d take my patients for a day. There’s been an… incident back at the mansion and I need to be involved. Unfortunately it’s not something I can bow out of. I tried and, well, things are already bad enough.”

                “Of course my friend,” Henrik said. “You don’t want to keep Dark waiting longer than you have to so I’ll just go and have your nurse brief me on everyone. Have faith in me!”

                “I always do!” Edward called as he hurried down the hallway, looking nervous as he went.

                Henrik shrugged off the stilted interaction and went to work. There was a lot to do, a lot of sick people to cure, and he had his own good name to regain. Unfortunately, the odds were already stacked against him before he’d even stepped through the front door.

 

                It seemed like a new flu bug was going through town, and Henrik did his best to keep on top of both his patients and Edward’s. There were a lot of them, and he would have struggled without the help of Edward’s two nurses. It wasn’t until he lost the first patient that he realized just how dire things were. The flu didn’t respond to anything, not antivirals, antibiotics, pushing fluids, not even the most advanced medical treatments. Everyone seemed to expire on a fixed timeline. Almost exactly three hours from when they came in, they fell into a coma that acted more like a progressive vegetative state than any normal Coma, but it was familiar enough.

                Henrik wouldn’t let him consider Anti at first, pushing the epidemic away as some sort of parasite or outbreak caused by anti-vaxxers converging in the area. Tests returned however, and the lab results increasingly pushed him toward the thought he’d first had when he saw the dead patient. Anti was doing this. Whatever he’d done to Jack, he’d done to these people on a grander scale, on a scale that made them sick and killed them fast. But what did he want with so many dead? Jackie had mentioned people going missing, and Henrik had cross referenced the bodies in the morgue with the photos, but found none of the missing. Perhaps Anti was forcing his influence on people who couldn’t tolerate him, who were too weak—or too strong—and they died instead of becoming puppets. If that was the case, what was Anti _doing_ with so many puppets?

                If Anti had been planning to storm the hospital and kill Jack, he could have done that several times over. The security was only average, and it wasn’t as though Henrik was capable of fighting him off. Anti had likely been right in the room when Chase had hung himself, so what actually stopped him from hurting Jack? Was Jack immune somehow? Or were they connected, as Henrik had thought? Was Anti trying to get away from this connection by killing all of them, by making Jack sicker and sicker? Lately he hadn’t done a damn thing to the six of them. Something was rotten in Denmark, and Henrik would get around to working it out once he managed to keep his patients from dying.

                Although the symptoms were the same, and people were constantly flowing in with the disease, it didn’t seem obviously contagious in any normal way, as none of the family members of the sick had symptoms, and none of the nurses or doctors contracted it despite the absolute mushroom cloud of germs that had descended on the hospital. Perhaps it was spread some other way. Before a clear answer came, Henrik was called down to the morgue, and he hurried down, angry and annoyed at having to waste his time down there instead of with patients. However, when he saw what was waiting for him, he pulled out his phone and texted Marvin. He couldn’t do this alone anymore.


	21. Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik asks for a consult.

                Marvin stepped into the hospital, fixing his mask and pulling his cape tighter around him for comfort. It was eerily quiet, and a few lights were off, making it seem _wrong_. The nurse at the desk gave him a look—they’d become old friends after all. Marvin ducked into the hallway and went to Schneep’s office, bypassing curious nurses and ragged looking interns. Henrik was inside, and Marvin let himself in, finding his friend poring over a large book on parasitic epidemics. He put a gentle hand on Henrik’s back to get his attention. “I got your message.”

                Henrik jumped, then stood up, “Oh! Marvin, thank goodness. I have something to show you, and I don’t know how to explain it.”

                The journey to the morgue was fast, but Marvin couldn’t help the sinking dread that settled in the base of his spine. Why were they going to the morgue? And why had Schneep asked for him specifically? He stepped out of the elevator and rubbed his hands together. It was cold down there. “Schneep?”

                “Follow me,” Henrik said, passing through several rooms. The final room was the autopsy room, and they stopped at the door, and Henrik pulled out his keys, “Be ready.”

                “Wha-“

                The door opened and the gurneys were covered in struggling, snarling people. Or, not people, something like corpses, but all twisted up with red threads. They had been restrained to the gurneys. Behind them, the doors of the body-lockers shook as well, “What the fuck…”

                “Puppets, right?”

                “I’ve never seen them like _this_ before,” Marvin said. “They’re like zombies.”

                “They die,” Henrik said. “About three hours after symptoms start, and then they lay down here for another hour or so, and then they come back. The thread comes out of their skin.”

                “Like Morgellons?”

                “Exactly,” Henrik said. “I think we’re all in danger here. If this spreads outside of the hospital, and it has to. Not everyone comes in to the hospital for a flu…”

                “The city could be overrun. Is it contagious?”

                “Nein,” Henrik said. “I even injected myself with-“

                “Schneep!”

                “Well I was already pretty sure by then!” Henrik defended. “But it isn’t contagious. It comes from Anti… somehow. I don’t know how it is spreading.”

                “Virus, maybe?” Marvin suggested, “Through the internet or phones? Maybe that’s why they won’t call out and why the internet is all fucked. Anti’s taking up all the space. But wait, are any of these Jackie’s missing people?”

                Henrik shook his head, “Not yet. I’ve been watching everyone that comes in, cross referencing but nothing has come of it. There is one thing… but it’s probably unrelated.”

                “What is it, Schneep?”

                Henrik hesitated, “Well… Edward had to leave this morning for an emergency at the mansion. Dark was asking specifically for him.”

                “That could be connected? Dark and Anti talk sometimes, don’t they?”

                Henrik shrugged, “I have no idea. I could ask Edward but I have been texting him all morning and haven’t gotten a single reply. He’s extremely busy, obviously. Surely he wouldn’t be helping Anti and not tell us. I trust Edward with my life.”

                “Right, so Anti probably isn’t going that route then. What would he want with fifty people when he can just make thread zombies? Hostages?”

                “Maybe,” Henrik said. “if he can distract Jackie and get away with something perhaps. Maybe that’s what all of _this_ is, too. Maybe this is made to distract me.”

                “Us,” Marvin said. “Maybe so. So where do I come in?”

                “I’m trying to find a way to keep them alive,” Henrik said. “I need you to find a way to keep them _dead.”_

                “First I guess I need to know _how_ he’s doing it. You got a quiet place where I can work?”

                Henrik led Marvin to the nearest breakroom. “Everyone is banned from the morgue area for now, to keep things contained. No one will bother you down here. Call if you need me.”

                “I will,” Marvin said.

 

                He reached out, entering the dark place he’d been avoiding since he took fixed the wards in the house, but it was time to face his fears. The souls of the corpses were empty, and it was just like snarling shadows were filling the morgue. Nobody had so much as a spark of humanity left in them, and Marvin was struggling. The darkness seemed to swirl around them like black phosphorescence, darker than darkness, like mushroom spores or micro aerosol spread by a sneeze. So it was spreading, but how?

                Marvin pushed harder, searching out across the hospital with his mind, dipping in and out of rooms, avoiding the Emergency Room—the puppets were like screaming static monsters before they died and their influence made it hard to breathe. Marvin noticed a little flicker of green far off, and it disappeared when he focused on it. _Anti_ was here, in some capacity. What was the plan? Why was Anti even bothering with all of this if he meant to simply kill Jack or take them as puppets? Wouldn’t It be an awful lot of effort just to bother six people? Anti did like to go overboard, but he’d never been particularly dedicated to anything that took more than a few minutes. That’s what had made him easy to beat in the past, and what kept them safe most of the time. Marvin thought about Chase, still trying to get himself together for the livestream, and he sighed.

                The last thing he needed right now was distraction, but his inability to make a breakthrough here was frustrating, and he hadn’t seen another green spark since the first. Sometimes there would be the loud clacking of a gurney coming down the hallway, and another corpse would get planted in the hell-garden that was the autopsy room. Like fucking awful daisies ready to pop up and ruin everybody’s day. At least they were contained for now. At least this wasn’t a full on zombie apocalypse.

                “Fucking wonderful Marvin. Why don’t you just break a mirror and cartwheel under a ladder while you’re at it?” he scolded himself.

                Schneep came down and knocked lightly on the door before stepping inside, “Anything yet, Marvin?

                “How many are dead?” Marvin asked.

                “Ninety-four in the morgue. Three more upstairs waiting to come down, and two that are very near. Why?”

                “I’m counting spots,” Marvin said. “I’m trying to find Anti. I think he was here. There was this… green flash up on the second floor, on the west end of the building.”

                “That’s probably the server room,” Henrik said. “Maybe you got some technological feedback.”

                “Maybe I’m fucking garbage,” Marvin sighed. “I’m really not at my best right now, Schneep I’m sorry. I want so badly to make this work for you.”

                “Don’t worry,” Henrik said. “We’ll do this together. I’ll go and check the server room for any anomalies. Will that help?”

                “It might rule things out,” Marvin said. “Thanks.”

                Henrik clapped him on the back, “No despairing, Marvin. You aren’t trash. You’re a treasure.”

                Marvin laughed and waved Henrik off, “If you make me cry I’m going to slap you. Just get out of here and let me work!”

                Henrik chuckled, “Yes sir.”

                “And bring me some pizza!”


	22. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun goes down.

                Jackie was pacing the living room floor. Things had gotten worse, exponentially worse. Since he’d gotten home, Henrik had sent for Marvin, and they had a zombie situation. People were sick in the streets, and there appeared to be a storm rolling in, as it got progressively more dreary outside. Their little city was starting to feel like a cage, a gameboard under glass for Anti to fuck with them. Chase and Jameson were blissfully unaware of what was happening, mostly because neither of them had emerged for the day yet, and it was roughly 3pm. Jackie wanted to patrol, to go out and fight a zombie or punch a criminal, but he was stuck at home, too worried to leave the two youngest at home alone—mostly because they’d both been acting like drunk teenagers since returning from the hospital. Of course, it had been nice to have things closer to normal, but now it set Jackie on edge. Marvin could be put in charge. Henrik could be put in charge, but they were off fighting a zombie outbreak and Jackie was playing housemother.

 

                The hospital had effectively been overrun, and the entire lower level was full of gurneys. They were running dangerously low, and patients were being seen on tables and benches. Anyone who was well enough to be sent away was, but patients that should be transferred couldn’t be due to the complete breakdown of communication between them and the outside world. Henrik was texting occasional updates, but Marvin had gone radio silent for a few hours, probably digging around in the magical cupboard of tricks in his head. When Jameson finally emerged from his room, he was chipper and energetic as always, and he stopped to check the clock. _How long was I asleep?_

“It’s 4 pm, Jamie,” Jackie said without looking up from his phone. “Why?”

                _It’s pitch black outside_ , Jameson said.

                Jackie got up to go to the window and it _was_ , not like a storm, but like midnight—full dark no stars as they say. They were plunged into darkness before it was even time for most people to get off of work. Jameson looked worried, and Jackie picked up his cellphone.

                “We see it,” Henrik said when he answered. “The sun just… it vanished.”

                “Vanished? How is that possible?”

                “I’ll put that on my to-do list after the zombies,” Henrik muttered. “No reason to panic I suppose, but we are certainly in trouble if it doesn’t come back. The thermometer in my offices says the temperature has already dropped five degrees since the darkness hit.”

                “This is freaky,” Jackie said. “Is it still bad there?”

                “Worse,” Henrik said. “They stopped admitting people entirely and are telling them to just go out of town. I’m not even sure anyone can, but our doors are locked. There’s so many of them now and Marvin hasn’t been able to stop the transformation. It’s already too late by the time they get sick. We’re thinking about… about killing one.”

                “Henrik!”

                “Marvin says they aren’t human anymore. They aren’t alive, not in the basic sense. They’re hostile, physically aggressive. If we don’t start doing something, the other patients won’t be safe here.”

                “We need to get Jack out of there,” Jackie said.

                “We can’t yet,” Henrik said. “I can’t even clear a path through the sick as it is right now. Half of the doctors have caught it. We’re sinking fast, my friend.”

                Jackie chewed his bottom lip, “What if I come and get you?”

                “Have you been outside?”

                “No, but… I think there’s a lot of them out there. We’d be safe here, all together. I don’t like the two of you being out there alone.”

                “You can’t leave Jameson and Chase alone, either. Especially not Chase. He’s an easy target, and there’s only so much Jameson could do.”

                “I know,” Jackie said helplessly. “I hate this.”

                “It’s definitely not my favorite thing Anti has ever done,” Henrik muttered. “Why can’t he just go back to his endless rants and temper tantrums and leave us alone.”

                “He wasn’t getting enough attention,” Jackie said. “OR maybe he wasn’t getting _our_ attention. It’s hard to say. How’s Jack doing?”

                “Excellent,” Henrik said. “I’m afraid to say it, but his brainwaves suggest he might be waking up sooner rather than later. He’s very stable, and he’s breathing on his own again.”

                Jackie nodded, glancing at Chase when he stumbled out, bleary-eyed. “The others are awake. I’m going to update them.”

                “I’ll keep you posted, and don’t go outside!”

                “Sure Henrik. Bye.”

                Jackie hung up and Chase yawned, scratching his head, “What’s up? I think the clock is fucked.”

                “It’s right,” Jackie said.

                _The sun went out_ , Jameson signed, smiling.

                “Of course it did,” Chase muttered. “Why wouldn’t it? Anti?”

                “Who else,” Jackie muttered. “Think you can check online and see if this is a local phenomenon?”

                “I can try,” Chase said. “But unless it’s in a comment or a question specifically directed to Jack, it won’t get through.”

                “Try,” Jackie said. “Jamie, don’t go outside, and keep an eye on the front door. I’m going to fly out to the roof and see how bad it is out there.”

                _Be careful._

                Jackie nodded, and went into his room, opening the window. He shivered at the cold air that blew in, and climbed outside to get a better look.


	23. Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie proves himself.

                The three of them sat in the living room, doing their best to pretend that the world wasn’t ending. Chase had put on a movie that none of them were watching, and the silence between them had gone from comfortable to deafening. When Jackie’s cellphone rang, they all three jumped, and Jackie grabbed it, thankful for the distraction, “Hello?”

                “Jackie!” Henrik was shouting over a dull roaring. “We have to get Jack out of the hospital! Everybody is dead!”

                “Everybody?!”

                “I’m here!” Marvin shouted beside Henrik.

                “We won’t be for long if we don’t get out of here. They broke in through the front doors. I think we can get to the car, but if they’re outside of the house, there’s no way we can get Jack inside.”

                “I can cover you,” Jackie said. “Don’t worry--or worry a little, but I’ll make it work.”

                Henrik exchanged glances with Marvin, “I have faith in you, Jackie.”

                “I’ll be ready,” Jackie said, hanging up.

                Jameson started signing as soon as he hung up, and Jackie lifted a hand, “Schneep and Marvin are coming. They’re bringing Jack, but I have to figure out how to keep the bastards away from the door. Jack isn’t exactly going to walk in here.”

                Jameson nodded and went into the kitchen while Chase stood up, “Right. I need my gun.”

                “No,” Jackie said. “Absolutely out of the question. You two stay inside, and the last thing you need is a gun, Chase.”

                “Jackie you need us, and I need the gun! This isn’t the time to pussy out! I’m not going to shoot myself in the middle of a fucking zombie battle, and you can’t do everything all by yourself! Use your head!”

                Jackie grit his teeth, then reached into his pocket and tossed Chase the keys to his desk, “Don’t make me regret this, Chase!”

                Chase ran off to Jackie’s bedroom, and Jameson came in, holding an eight inch chef’s knife. His expression was a grim resolve that made Jackie’s heart sink, “Jamie, no. You can’t-“

                _I’ll be fine_ , Jameson signed, closing off the discussion.

                Chase returned with his gun and two boxes of ammo, setting them on the coffee table. He handled the gun easy and confident, like he’d never been without her, “Thanks for taking care of her, Jackie.”

                “I wanted to have it melted down,” Jackie said. “But Henrik talked me out of it.”

                Chase loaded the gun, clicking the safety off, “Good thing, too.”

                “How much ammo do you have?” Jackie asked, looking out the window into the darkness.

                “Enough,” Chase said. “Probably.”

                Jackie nodded, “They’re just puppets, right? There’s no way Anti has them organized. How bad can it be?”

                Chase was quietly taking inventory of his ammo, and Jameson gave an optimistic thumbs up, but even he looked worried.

                “We just have to clear a path for Schneep and Marv to get through with Jack. We can do this.”

                “Sure we can,” Chase said. “We’ve already been through hell. What’s one more day?”

 

                The street outside of the house was choked with puppets, and Jackie slammed the door open, knocking away the ones that had come up to stand on the landing. He rushed down the stairs and a wide kick scattered several more. They weren’t particularly strong, and they were as stupid as Jackie had hoped. His relief quickly drained away to nothing, though, when the brainless wave parted and Anti sauntered up with a smile.     

                Jackie’s heart sank. _Why the fuck was he here?_ “Morning, or is it afternoon? I’ve had a hard time telling lately.”

                “Fuck you,” Jackie growled, and he dove on the glitch.

                The connection of their bodies was like an explosion, and Anti’s glitching was like sparks, flashing in the darkness and illuminating the area around them. The puppets steered clear, and obviously Anti wanted Jackie to himself. Gunshots rang out, and Chase had managed not to freeze up at the sight of Anti. Besides, he wasn’t the scariest thing in Chase’s life anymore, and he had a reason to fight. Puppets fell easily, and Chase’s aim was as spot on as it had ever been, fueled by adrenaline and necessity.

 

 

                Marvin closed his eyes and gripped the seat, and a shimmer of blue danced before the car, “That should keep them from coming through the windshield until we get there. Just run the fuckers down.”

                Henrik nodded, shifting gears and his car roared out of the parking garage. They braced for impact, and Henrik hit the group head on, throwing corpses out of the way as the barrier pushed them aside. The engine held up, and they didn’t slow down, but they were only five miles down the road before Marvin’s nose started to bleed. “Marvin?”

                “Don’t stop,” the magician said, wiping at his face. “If you stop, we’re fucked. Don’t worry about me. Worry about _Jack_.”

                The puppets thinned as they left the hospital, and the road to the house was fairly clear. Once they reached home, however, the street was absolutely swarming with the puppets. Henrik spotted Jackie fighting Anti, in the center of the mass and he slammed on the brakes, but Marvin’s magic pushed his foot away, dropping the barrier, “Marvin!”

                “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Schneep!” Marvin shouted, and the engine roared as the car leapt forward. “Run that bastard over!”

                Jackie glanced up and jumped out of the way at the last second, the car slamming full force into Anti, throwing him up and over the hood. He landed heavily on the pavement behind the car, jumping to his feet with a glitching snarl. Jackie ran over the car and tackled Anti before he could attack the others, taking a knife in his shoulder. The glitch was _pissed_ , and Jackie would suffer the consequences.

                Henrik’s car came to a stop and the doctor took a moment to stop panicking. He glanced over to Marvin, “We have to get Jack inside.”

                “It looks like Chase has us covered once we get to the steps.”

                Henrik exhaled, “Can you get us there?”

                Marvin nodded, “I think so. I don’t know for how long.”

                “Then we’ll hurry,” Henrik said. He threw open the car door, and Marvin followed.

                They dragged Jack out of the backseat and carried him toward the house. “Thank god he hasn’t eaten this whole time,” Marvin huffed.

                Then they approached the horde, and puppets were scattered by an invisible force that narrowed until there was barely a foot of clearance around them. Blood was pouring out of Marvin’s nose but he held the magic, squeezing his eyes shut to close out the sight of the mindless monsters. Then there was slow relief, and puppets fell away from the barrier. Jameson was there, pulling them away, cutting throats and stabbing as best he could with the kitchen knife he held. He met eyes with Marvin and gave a little smile and wave. Chase was halfway down the stairs, taking puppets out with a precision that scared Marvin, but at the same time, thank god for that gun.

                They made it up the stairs and into the house, and Jameson took over for Marvin. “Get him to the lab,” Henrik said.

                Marvin fell to his knees and Chase knelt beside him, “All good, Marv?”

                He wiped the blood from his face and nodded, “Good shooting out there.”

 

               

                Anti was back to laughing, having the time of his life and absorbing every hit from Jackie. His mouth was bleeding, and his left arm wasn’t so much broken as _demolished_ , but Anti never stayed hurt for long. The fight was a game, a ruse. Even when Anti had spotted Jack, and Jackie had put up all of his strength to keep him away from the others, it still felt like a false flag.

                That’s when the _threads_ came out. Anti had pulled Jackie against him, and they’d woven around the hero’s legs, “Why don’t you just give up?” Anti purred. “Wouldn’t it be easier?”

                Jackie headbutted Anti, driving his forehead into the glitch’s nose, and the sickening crack and subsequent vanishing of the threads was a rush. The hero stepped back then, panic ringing in his ears as he turned and ran to the door. He locked it behind him and fell against it, fear squeezing at his throat. It was the first time he’d ever been _touched_ by those things, and they had been inviting, like his bed after a long fight. He’d been tempted to give in, and that scared him more than anything. He stumbled away from the door, trying to get ahold of himself.

                Marvin met him, wrapping him in a tight hug, “We made it. Thank you.”

                “No problem,” Jackie muttered into Marvin’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

                Marvin pulled back and smiled; he was tired, but he wasn’t dead, and that was something, “I can keep the house safe for now. Henrik has Jack in the lab.”

                Jackie nodded and went off to the lab. For now, it was over. 


	24. Clues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase goes sleuthing.

                Chase yawned as he reassembled his gun, putting it back in the case and closing it. It was strange to hold it again, and somehow feel alright. He’d tried to kill himself just days before, and yet now a gun was sitting on his desk, and there was nothing. Of course, if Anti was telling the truth, the hallucinations had been purely withdrawal symptoms, and thanks to Jamie he wasn’t having any of those anymore. He made himself stand up and stretch. He had responsibilities beyond not shooting himself in the head again.

                The recording room was dark and cool with the machinery turned off; Chase sat in his rolling chair and turned on the computer, his only link to the fans whose theories had proven useful before. He read through social media, trying to cover as much ground as possible without missing anything small. He hadn’t mentioned any of this to the others, afraid that he’d just end up looking like an idiot, but some of the fans were making valid points ever since he’d started dropping Anti hints in hopes of stirring up something. _What is Anti, what is his connection to Jack, are we feeding him with our attention?_

Chase played the part, leaving reactions and cryptic comments here and there, trying to guide them to something useful. It wasn’t easy, and he wasn’t as smart as Marvin. Marvin could have really gotten them talking. He rubbed his eyes and switched platforms, skimming through relevant tags. _What if Anti lives in electronics, and every time Jack records or streams, Anti gets stronger?_

“A little hard to worry about that when he’s outside stabbing your friend,” Chase muttered.

                There were several other things, fan arts and kind messages that he paid special attention to, responding and reacting; for a moment, while doing this, he _was_ Jack, and the ugly parts of his past went away. He smiled as he scrolled through, settling into the role like it was made for him—perhaps it was. What with the stream coming up, and Jack now settled safely in the lab, maybe this _was_ his identity now, his mission. He was reminded of Anti again when his comments started to catch traction, skittering along and then bursting into flames the way they always did. Chase was briefly reminded of how Anti had bounced over the top of Henrik’s car, and he chuckled. If only he’d been able to record _that_ for a video. It would have been a hit.

                Things were getting stranger and stranger online, glitches and lag and crashes, but that was to be expected as the outside world grew more and more distant. It was more of an annoyance than anything. Chase hadn’t been able to watch Netflix for days. He and Jameson had settled for DVD’s for a while, but they had rapidly lost their charm. Who the fuck watches movies on disc anymore? Chase chewed his thumbnail as he scrolled through the last of the posts that he’d set aside. He reached for his bottle of whiskey. It was half full, and he reminded himself to ration it. He couldn’t go over the line. He had to be careful. Otherwise he’d get Jameson in trouble and he’d stop being able to be Jack—being able to _help_ Jack. “Fuck, Chase. Get ahold of yourself, buddy. You’re just tired.”

                _You’re just Jack. Confused? You’ve been playing around with these egos for too long. You’re slipping, Jackaboy._

Chase rubbed his face and sat back in his chair, “Ok maybe that’s enough internet for today.”

                _Don’t forget to set up the stream. Don’t forget to queue the video for tomorrow. Don’t forget to-_

                “Right,” Chase muttered. “Right fuck. I got it. Lots to do, Jackaboy.”

                _Lots to do. Can’t let the fans down. Have to keep the mayhem going. Have to tease Chase’s return. Have to ask where Schneep is. Have to-_

                “He’s in the lab,” Chase said. “Fuck he’s… he’s right in the other room. He’s right here. _I’m_ right here. What am I saying?”

                _You need sleep, Jack._

“I need sleep. Right. I’ve been working too hard.”

_You need a lot of sleep._

“Like a coma,” Chase said, snorting. “Like… what? No. I have to finish this tweet. I have to finish this fucking… where’s Schneep?”

                _Wish you were here_.

                “Wish you… were…”

                _Jack. It’s Chase…_

                “Time is broken.”

                Chase ripped the headset off and threw it, jumping out of the chair, “Fuck this! Fuck I have to sleep. Shit!”

                He rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Jameson was sitting on the floor in front of the couch where Jackie was lying. They were both asleep. The lab light was on and Marvin’s door was open. Everybody was fine. Everybody was here. Chase went to his room and fell into bed without even taking off his hat, and sleep grabbed him like a pair of clawed hands, dragging him under.

                _You have to wake up_.


	25. Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie suffers some distress.

                Jackie paced the livingroom slowly. The others were in the lab, fawning over Jack, or helping Schneep, or whatever else. Jackie was bleeding and panicking and self-indulging. He went into his bedroom and laid out on the bed, flipping and curling until he was comfortable—and then a particularly sharp bite of pain from his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t safe. He turned off the lights, and they were _there_. They crawled on him like spiders, like snakes, and he flung himself off of the bed, flipping the light on. The threads weren’t there. Of course they weren’t. He was safe, for now. He was safe and he’d beaten them. He’d kept his cool. He groaned and fell back into bed, throwing an arm over his face. Darkness again, and slowly that tiny, burning tickle as they wound around his legs. They swiped at his ankles, zapping with electricity, and twined up past his knees. They caught his hands when they passed his hips and-

                Jackie jumped out of the bed again, breathing a curse as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Apparently, he’d be sleeping on the couch for a while. Jameson stood up when he came in, stepping forward and reaching for his arm. The touch, the warmth—the _pressure_ —made Jackie jerk away, and his fist came up, but he stopped it. Jameson put his hands up and stepped back. Jackie wrapped his arms around himself, “I’m tired. I’m gonna lay down.”

                Jameson moved out of his way, and he curled up on the couch with his back to the room, trying not to focus on the fact that he almost punched Jameson through a wall for trying to help him.

                The house was quiet. Jackie was laying on his back on the couch with his arm thrown over his eyes. He didn’t want to be alone, even though he needed to sleep. Jameson was on the floor in front of the couch, close enough that Jackie could feel the heat from his body when he leaned back against the sofa. Jackie was grateful, but he had no idea how to express it without breaking down. Instead, he just placed one hand on Jamie’s shoulder and squeezed. Jameson lifted a hand and took his, holding it. Jackie did break down then, tears welling up and spilling over his cheeks. He took a shaky breath and silent sobs wracked his body. He was as close to hysterical as he’d ever been, and he had no idea how to stop it. Letting go like this was terrifying, like opening a floodgate that might never close again. On top of it all, the others needed him and he was a sniveling wreck.

                Jameson had felt the threads more than any of them, and he’d beaten them every time. If he could do it, then Jackie could learn to do the same, to ignore their promise of peace and rest and irresponsibility. Anti was a liar, anyway, and being a puppet must be torment—for those who didn’t die first, of course. Being a dead puppet was probably a lot like being a throw pillow on the emotional scale of things.

                Jameson patted the couch, and Jackie moved his arm, propping himself up on his elbow. _I know you’re afraid, Jackie. The threads can talk to you even more than Anti. I’ve felt them… but they didn’t end me, and they didn’t end you either. You would never give in, no matter what they said._

“How are you so sure?” Jackie said. “I wanted to so fucking bad. I wanted to lay down and… how do you have so much faith in me, Jamie?”

                _Because you’re my hero. You’re **everybody’s** hero._

Jackie pushed his mask up and wiped his face, nodding with newfound resolve, “Alright. I won’t give in.”

                _Will you let me look at your shoulder yet?_

                Jackie hesitated. The last time Jameson had reached out to help him, Jackie had almost knocked his head off. But now Jamie was holding his hand and he’d set Jackie at ease somewhat, so the hero nodded, sitting up, “Yeah.”

                Jameson stood up and fetched the first aid kit from the kitchen table, coming back to help Jackie get his shirt off. The fabric stuck to the dried blood on his shoulder and he winced. The wound reopened, and Jameson wiped the blood away with gauze. It needed stitches, but Jameson bandaged it without comment; Jackie wasn’t in any shape to be sewn up, and Henrik was busy with Jack. Jackie endured the gentle attention to his shoulder, and then he curled back up on the couch. Jameson smiled and sat back down in front of the couch, a silent promise to stay and watch over him while he slept.

 

 

 

 

                After a brief, hard-earned nap, Marvin walked into the lab, rubbing his eyes. He looked like death warmed over, but after his quick nap he couldn’t sleep anymore. The house barriers were under stress, and their magic was pulsing in his head. Plus, the dried blood in his nose was driving him crazy, “Schneep, help.”

                Henrik looked up from his desk, putting down his pen, “What is it?”

                “I have the world’s worst scab and I’m pretty sure it goes up into my brain.”

                Henrik chuckled, “Have a seat. I’ll see what I can do. I’m surprised to see you awake.”

                “I couldn’t sleep,” Marvin said. “Well I could sleep. I _did_ sleep, but then I couldn’t. How’s Jack?”

                “Excellent,” Henrik said. “His vitals are even stronger than they were when we left the hospital. He’s going to wake up any day now.”

                “I can’t wait,” Marvin said. “It feels like it’s been forever. He’ll probably have some insight into the Anti situation.”

                “I’m counting on it,” Henrik said, returning to stand before Marvin.

                Marvin lifted his head and looked up when Henrik lifted his chin. “Tell it to me straight, Schneep. Am I gonna die?”

                “Definitely,” Henrik said. “But not for a long time. It’ll just take a little saline and a cotton swab or two and I’ll have you feeling good as new.”

                “Thanks for doing the world’s grossest favor for me,” Marvin said.

                Henrik smiled, “Not even close, my friend. Not even close. How are the others?”

                “Chase is in his room, but I think he’s awake. Jackie and Jameson are sleeping in the livingroom. I guess they don’t want to sleep in their rooms,” Marvin said, shrugging. “We all saw the boogeyman tonight after all. Well, you hit him with your car.”

                “I believe _you_ hit him with my car,” Henrik said. “Using my foot.”

                “Sorry about that,” Marvin said. “Oh wait no I’m not, not at all. Seeing his stupid ass flip over the car was probably one of the greatest moments of my life.”

                “Do you think we can do this? Beat Anti I mean,” Henrik asked, stepping back.

                Marvin was thoughtful, and he wiggled his nose, sighing in relief, “Now that my nose isn’t one big scab I feel like I can do anything, but seriously, yeah. Anti’s just fucking Anti, and Jack is waking up. All we have to do is hold out until he wakes up.”

                Henrik forced a smile and nodded, “Right. Shouldn’t be long now.”


	26. Actor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase gets absorbed into a role.

                It was the day of the livestream, finally, and Chase was sitting in his chair, Coke Zero on the desk and the door was closed. The others had been supportive, but he’d seen the looks on their faces. They didn’t think he could do it. Marvin had tried to talk him into waiting, but what was the point of anything if they couldn’t keep the channel going? Chase finished the last minute preparations for the stream and then went live. His face lit up as he greeted his viewers, going over the usual spiel and sending out the necessary Tweets—ones he usually forgot, but not today. Today had to be perfect. _He_ had to be perfect.

                The games were inconsequential, throwaways and a few old favorites. He kept himself distracted at first, playing and commenting and slipping into the role. He was so very good at being Jack. It had been a long time since Jack had been Jack, after all. Could he even do it anymore? Chase wasn’t so sure. The live chat was a mix of memes, game advice and a few mentions of Anti that made Chase chuckle. His breadcrumbs were working, although he wondered briefly if the fans would end up suffering the same fate as the legion of corpses outside. As far as he knew, the entire world was unphased, but he knew very little

                Jumpscares were one of Chase’s least favorite things, although he often had to correct himself, like Jack. _I hate this, and when I say hate, I mean love_ —but Chase really meant hate. His nerves were naturally fragile, and jumpscares affected him more than a normal person, tensing every muscle in his body and throwing his heart against the wall of his ribcage. He had little desire to play most games outside of YouTube anymore, although Jack always had. Another way he fell short, but Chase was learning. Chase was changing for the better. His neck was back to normal now, the bruise gone, and his voice was no longer weak—blamed on a cold for the videos he’d recorded. Henrik had done a quick last minute health check after lunch when Chase was getting ready. Chase had been given a bill of health, not exactly clean but Henrik hadn’t gone so far as to forbid him from streaming—not that Chase would listened. Men like Chase and Jack didn’t _listen_ to naysayers, after all. Jack was too strong for that.

                _Don’t forget who you are_.

                “Right,” Chase muttered, but it looked like he was talking to the game.

                _Focus, Jack. Stay focused._

                Chase rubbed his face and sat bak in his chair, “This game, man,” he said, making it a joke. Everything was fine. He was fine and everything was fine. “Fuck me.”

                _Finish the game, Jack._

                “I don’t want to finish this game,” Chase muttered.

                The chat was full of encouragement, some gentle jeers, and the never ending spam about Anti. _Anti this, Anti that. Anti and Henrik and Chase_ , always taking the attention away from _him_ , from Jack. Chase stopped for a drink of soda.

                “Okay,” Chase said. “Let’s finish this fucking game so I can never play it again.”

                _“Never play it again.”_ Anti cooed, and Chase looked around, but there was no one there. Even so, that voice had been very much real.

                Nobody mentioned it, so Chase continued in the game, wishing the glitch away—although it wasn’t know to work in the past. Another jumpscare drove his hands away from the keyboard and his screen flashed to static, then there was another window up, and Anti was smiling at him. Chase glanced at his other monitor. It wasn’t visible on the stream, but he was most certainly seeing it. It was real. When he tried to close the window, his computer spazzed, lagged, and simply refused to carry out the request.

                “ _Hi Jack_ ,” Anti purred. “ _Did you miss me_?”

                “How can I miss you if you never leave?” Chase muttered, trying to focus on the game. Anti was a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t usually dangerous—not to Jack anyway, not unless he was up to something.

                “I’ve been watching,” Anti said. “Do you think they know? Do you think they know you’ve been lying to them, Jack?”

                “Lying?” Chase muttered.

                “About who you are.”

                “Shut up Anti,” Chase whispered, and the live chat exploded with activity. He’d set off panic with a slip of the tongue. He thought about trying to cover it up, but there was not much he could do. They’d heard him say Anti, and they’d be out for blood. He ran his hands through his hair and nodded. _Fine, I can do this. You can do this Jack. Just don’t lose your shit. Just ignore him._

                Anti wasn’t smiling anymore, but he was still leering, like he wanted to come through the screen—and he could, probably, if he really wanted to. Would he? He didn’t usually make a point to crash streams, but it wouldn’t be his first time acting a little dramatic. Chase nodded, exhaling a heavy breath. He went back to the game, and his screen went black. The stream went black—everything was gone. “Oh fuck what happened?”

                Anti’s breath tickled the back of his neck, and he jumped out of his chair, throwing off his headset, “Sorry. I might have knocked a few things loose on my way out. Don’t worry, though. They can still see us.” He leaned down and smiled into the camera, “Can’t you?”

                Chase took a step back, “What the hell are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.”

                “Neither are you,” Anti said. “But, here we are.” He spread his arms wide, making a show of it—always making a show of it. His knife appeared in his hand and he drew the tip across the cut in his throat, licking his lips. “Come on now, Chase. Let’s have a little fun.”

                “Anti,” Chase hissed. “Get the hell out of here!”

                ”Is that any way to talk to an old friend?” Anti said, and he pulled the chair over to sit in, putting his feet up on the desk. “They’re all happy to see me. Aren’t you?”

                Live chat was an apocalypse, on fire and shot into another dimension, and Jack’s—Chase’s phone was buzzing on the desk. He could see Robin’s name on the screen. Of course Robin would want to know what the fuck was up. He hadn’t done any of this. Chase took a step toward the computer. He had to shut it down—but something stopped him. He looked down, and his feet were covered in red. The threads were tangling up his legs, around his hips. It felt warm, safe, and he couldn’t help but let out a little sigh, “Anti.”

                Anti’s grin widened, “You’ll finally have the peace you’ve always wanted.”

                The threads wound around his throat and up his chin, and Chase opened his mouth. They slid past his lips. His eyes cried red tears, and he couldn’t force them closed. Anti was disappearing in a sea of red, and Chase took one last breath, relaxing into their hold. He was so fucking tired, and the threads pressed back against him, cradling him inside and out, and he let them. He _wanted_ it.

                “Good boy,” Anti cooed, then he leaned in and turned off the stream. The door to the recording room shook as somebody tried to come in, but it was far too late.

                Anti chuckled, watching his masterpiece unfold on the floor. Chase had vanished into red, but slowly, he was reappearing. The threads moved inside, weaving around every nerve, every vein and every muscle until Chase stood before him with black eyes. He reached into the waistband of his pants and took out his gun, and his lips pulled into a grin. “Very good,” Anti said. “Don’t you look handsome all done up in me?”


	27. Going Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin picks up where Chase left off.

                They were all sitting in silence on the couch, stunned, Henrik was watching the stream on his phone, “Mein Gott.”

                “Schneep?” Marvin said, then louder. “Schneep! _Henrik_! What’s going on?”

                “He’s a puppet,” Henrik whispered, putting down his phone. “Anti… Anti took him. He just gave in.”

                _What do we do_? Jameson signed. _Can anybody save him_?            

                “Somebody had better get in there and talk with the fans while we figure this out,” Jackie muttered.

                “I’ll do it,” Marvin said. He stood and pulled off his mask.

                “You?”

                “I got the face, right?” Marvin said. He went into the kitchen and took the scissors from the junk drawer. He cut his hair at the ponytail and held out his hand, “Give me your hoodie.”

                Jackie hesitated, but he pulled it off and handed it over, “Marv-”

                Marvin pulled the hoodie on and went to the recording room. It was empty, and an eerie silence hung in the air. Marvin made sure his hood was up, then put on the headset and restarted the stream, “Sorry about that. Technical difficulties, can you guys see me?”

                The stream was, of course, on fire, and Marvin had to swallow his own emotions and be coy, “Anti? I don’t know what you guys are talking about. Just a power surge.”

                Chase had been playing a game, and Marvin was not a great gamer, so he ignored it in favor of social media. Reddit was usually good for content, “Right, I’m not playing that fucking game anymore so let’s just check out some memes. You guys seem to like taking the piss out of me, so let’s see what we’ve got.”

                Marvin clicked through the subreddit, trying to focus, but it was hard. _Where the fuck are you, Chase? Where the fuck is Anti?_ Henrik had been watching the stream, and he’d _seen_ it, but Marvin hadn’t. He hadn’t _wanted_ to. Marvin rolled his eyes at a particular meme and chuckled, “That’s perfect, good job guys.”

                “ _Marvin?_ ”

                Marvin glanced at his other monitor, and there was a thin line of static going through the middle. He ignored it, forcing his eyes away. He wasn’t helpless, and he wasn’t afraid of Anti.

                “ _You’re next.”_

                “Bring it on bitch,” Marvin growled under his breath. 

                Marvin scrolled through the subreddit, but his eyes weren’t focusing; he was staring off into space, weaving a protection spell over the room—hopefully something to keep him from succumbing to Anti’s bullshit as swiftly as Chase. He didn’t have a death wish, but he wasn’t exactly the poster child of confidence either. Mind games were easy to win, but Anti was an old pro, and he had a head start.

“Having fun?”

                Marvin glanced over his shoulder where Anti was standing in the corner, and he rolled his eyes, “Remember when we hit you with the car? _That_ was fun. This is just fucking exhausting. Turn the stream off, Anti.”

                “I want them to watch.”

                “You get your ass kicked?”

                Anti grinned. Oh he was going to enjoy this, “Let them watch. Jack could use the content, right? I have the feeling you won’t go quite as easily as Chase.”

                “You’ve got good feelings,” Marvin said. “Because you’re just going to embarrass yourself. It’s about time though. I’ve been waiting for a chance to kick your ass and Jackie isn’t the only one with a good punch.”

                Anti straightened, tensed, but he didn’t move forward. He didn’t have to; he could take puppets without touching them. Marvin finished his spell and the room flared white for a moment, knocking out the lights, “Way to go,” Anti sneered.

                Marvin’s eyes glowed, and magic sizzled around his hands as he stood up, “I hope you’re ready, Gadhafi, because I’m going to shove that knife right up your ass.”

                Anti laughed, “I didn’t know you had a thing for knives. Maybe we should talk about that some time.”

                Marvin grit his teeth and released the energy he was holding; Anti glitched away, and his magic burned through one of the monitors, “Chase will be pissed about that one. Should we ask him?”

                “You try to bring him here and I’ll blow your balls off,” Marvin snarled. “It’s just you and me in here, bitch.”

                Anti’s knife stuttered into view, “Sounds like fun.”

               

 

                Magic danced like ball lightning in the room, echoing off of the various surfaces; Anti was fast, and he could glitch across the room in an instant. Each time he vanished, Marvin had to reposition, and be forever wary of the knife. Anti had slashed him twice already across the chest, and the cuts stung each time he inhaled. He was starting to feel that familiar nagging of self-doubt, and it was getting steadily harder to push it away. Fear was begging him to leave the room, to let the others help, but Jack needed Henrik, and Jackie was an emotional wreck. Jameson could _resist_ Anti, but he’d never seemed to be much of a fighter.

                Anti took advantage of Marvin’s racing brain, and he came in with the knife, driving it in just under Marvin’s ribs, shoving upward and twisting. Marvin blasted him across the room with one last burst of energy before he went to the floor, choking on the blood bubbling up from his chest. He pressed his hand to the wound, but it was pouring blood, and his breathing became a shallow gurgle. Anti circled around him, sneering, “So much for blowing my balls off, unless you were being metaphorical.”

                “F-fuck… fuck you,” Marvin rasped.

                Anti smiled, “It won’t matter now. I’ve got you where I want you, little kitty.”

                Marvin could feel the threads, and he pushed back, pulling himself across the floor, “No!”

                “You’re not going to fight them like that,” Anti said, almost sounding bored. “It was fun, but now it’s over.”

                The threads took hold again, and Marvin screamed when they pushed under his hand and into the knife wound; he could feel them moving through his body, and the pain faded into comfort. He struggled, but the harder he fought the more they spread inside of him, smothering his resolve. The magic in him faded away behind the threads, and Marvin lost himself in the void. He was gone.


	28. Ruined Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneep relives the past.

                “He’s gone,” Henrik muttered. “Anti must be drawing power from the computer, from the livestream perhaps. He’s got endless energy—and we don’t.”

                “Schneep there has to be something we can do for-“

                “Quiet. I’m trying to think,” Henrik hissed. “Jameson, go and lock yourself in the lab with Jack. No matter what, don’t let anyone in. He _has_ to wake up.”

                Jameson hurried off to do as he was told. Jackie was wringing his hands, “Schneep?”

                “I’ll do it,” Henrik said. “Chase has that baseball bat in his room. I’ll destroy the computer, but you have to stay out here in case I fail. You have to protect Jack.”

                Jackie didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue; he just sat back down on the couch, “Be careful.”

                “I always am,” Henrik said.

 

                The baseball bat was a nice weight in his hand, and even though he wasn’t a fighter—not even close—it was good to know he had something to defend himself with. The one working monitor was flickering, but the signal held. Anti was on the screen, watching Henrik as he moved into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. This would be his last stand, whether he won or lost, and a locked door wouldn’t stop Jackie anyway.

                _“Did you come to play too? It really makes my job easy when you’re all willing little lambs to the slaughter. I’m almost disappointed.”_

“Don’t worry, Anti,” Henrik said. “The last thing I want to do is disappoint you.”

                Anti’s grin spread, and the computer tower whirred, “Good.”

                Henrik took the bat in both hands and swung at the monitor. Anti’s face shattered in a satisfying crash, and then he moved through the rest of the equipment, dismantling it violently until his arms were shaking. He dropped the bat and fixed his glasses, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

                “You know I’m not _just_ in the computer.”

                “Not anymore you’re not,” Henrik said. “Now your free power supply is cut. I hope you got enough to last.”

                Anti laughed, “You really are an idiot doctor. Did you save the headphones at least so you can strangle yourself and save me the trouble?”

                Henrik took a deep breath, “I don’t intend on saving you any trouble, Anti. If you want me, you’re going to have to take me.”

                “Shouldn’t be too hard,” Anti said. “The cat put up a decent fight but all it takes is one little opening. I can worm my way in to some tight spaces. Tell me, would you like a knife in the ribs like Marvin? Or are you just waiting to open your mouth for me like Chase? He practically _begged_ for it. Do you think you’ll beg for it?”

                “I already did,” Henrik said. “You said I wasn’t ready. I think I understand what you meant. I was still necessary. Jack still needed me.”

                Anti folded his arms, “Maybe you’re not as stupid as I thought.”

                “Jack’s going to wake up now, with our without me,” Henrik said. “So now I’m ready. Take me and leave the others alone. You’ve already got plenty of puppets, and don’t you want there to be somebody left to witness all of this?”

                “I’ll have plenty of attention,” Anti said. “Don’t worry about me.”

                Henrik considered Jackie and Jameson, “I don’t think you’ll have as easy of a time with them as you think.”

                “Nothing’s ever _easy_ ,” Anti said. “But it’s always worth it. Now, let me in again. It’ll be like old times, you and me. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

                Henrik closed his eyes, “Get it over with, then.”

                Anti smiled, “With pleasure.”


	29. Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie's happy ending

                _Ten minutes._

_Three days_

_An hour_

How long _had_ it been? There had been some sound, muffled of course, the crashing of glass while Henrik took care of the computer. Then there had been silence, and Jackie was counting heartbeats until Henrik emerged. Then he’d lost count, and he’d stopped trying. The door wasn’t opening, and Henrik wasn’t coming back.

_In case I fail._

Jackie stood up on legs that didn’t feel like his, and he crossed to the recording room door. It was locked, but he twisted the doorknob until it snapped, and the door swung open. The room was empty. Equipment destroyed, and a few drops of blood on the carpet. Marvin’s, from the stab wound. He turned and went back to the couch. Now he would just wait, wait and watch and guard the door to the lab. Henrik had given him that job, but he wasn’t sure he could do it anymore. He was feeling numb, and his ears were ringing, and his shoulder was throbbing.

                A creaking of the floorboards alerted him, and Chase was standing in the hallway. He smiled and lifted his gun. Jackie watched. “Thanks for keeping her for me,” Chase said, and he shot.

                The bullet hit Jackie in the stomach, nothing too vital. He could even bite down on the cry of pain. He was so far away now, and bullets were no match for superheroes. Chase sneered and held the gun to his own temple, “I wouldn’t be able to do all of this without you, Jackie.”

                Jackie sat back on the couch, pressing his hand to the wound in his middle. It wasn’t gushing blood, or sapping away his energy like in the movies. It barely hurt, and he wanted it to hurt more, somehow. He wanted it to _mean_ something. It had to mean more than a hot ball of his own failure shot back at him—but it didn’t. _Sound and Fury_ , and all that.

                Henrik stepped up and put a hand on Chase’s shoulder, and the young man moved out of the way; Henrik had the bat. It looked a little bent, maybe. He had done a number on the computer. Jackie closed his eyes.     “Henrik please.”

                But Henrik didn’t have anything to say either, or maybe he couldn’t. Maybe the threads weighed his tongue down, squeezed his larynx, filled his lungs. Jackie wanted to lie down, curl up on the couch around the heaviness in his gut and wish them away. Henrik stepped forward and the bat connected with the side of Jackie’s head. He bit his tongue and blood pooled in his mouth; he spat it out onto the floor, and stars danced around the room. They were beating a dead man, stomping a lifeless dog, and maybe that was the point.

                Jackie was slumping down toward a fetal position when Marvin showed, and that numbness in his heart quickly fluttered away. Marvin wasn’t cold and grinning and black-eyed normal. He had wounds, but instead of blood, threads snuck around the edges like snakes in a bag, writhing to stay inside and pushing one another out at the same time. He smiled, and he held out his hand.

                “Oh fuck, Marv,” Jackie whimpered. His heart broke, and his mind wasn’t far behind.

                He stood, and it wasn’t easy; his legs were heavy, and he was starting to feel cold. He almost fell against the other man, hands fisted in Marvin’s shirt. Jackie sobbed until he was reduced to a hiccupping mess, and Marvin’s slender fingers combed through his hair. “Come with me, Jackie. I’m lonely.”

                “Marv I’m sorry,” Jackie said thickly. “I shouldn’t have let you go in there by yourself. Look at you.”

                He reached out and touched the wound on Marvin’s side; the threads that writhed there slid through his fingers, around his wrist, up his forearm, and Jackie let them. Marvin lifted his chin gently and smiled, “Jackie, stay with me.”

                Jackie nodded, “I will. I promise.”


	30. Left alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie gets left alone.

                The house was silent, and the only thing that broke it was the steady beeping of Jack’s pulse on the monitor. Jameson had heard the gunshot, but not much since, and he was on the verge of a good old fashioned panic. Would Jackie have left him in here alone if he’d managed to fight Anti off? If Chase was a puppet, and he was using the gun, why would he only shoot once if it didn’t kill Jackie? Why was everything so quiet now? Why hadn’t Henrik come back to check on Jack yet? Jameson walked over to the exam table where Jack was, taking his hand and patting it. He hardly knew Jack as a person; he’d always been more like a deity, a sleeping god that they worshipped in words but couldn’t help in deed. Now, though, he was coming around—that’s what Henrik had said, anyway—and Jameson might be the only one left to greet him, unable to speak and with no real experience.

                Jack’s monitor missed a beat and Jameson looked over, watching the out of place spike fade away as the rhythm picked back up. He wished he wasn’t alone, and he wished he could help the others. _You’re terrible in a fight, Jamie. You’d only get in the way! Besides, Jack is important._

Jameson rested his chin on his upturned palm and sighed, watching the clock. Time didn’t necessarily mean anything, anymore. It was dark, and quiet, and Anti was stalking the darkness like the boogeyman. The second ticked by like Jack’s pulse and it was hypnotizing. Jameson was tempted to sleep, but he knew he couldn’t, not and watch out for Jack. The lab door was locked, and Henrik had implemented several different locks—probably after Anti’s first attack on Jack. Jameson stood, shaking the sleep from his body and pacing around the lab; so many things in the room were beyond his comprehension. Not only because he was an actor, not a doctor, but the time difference was tangible.

                Jameson remembered a few things from his past, but it wasn’t solid, wasn’t complete. Marvin had been helping him with that, and so had Henrik, but now he supposed that would cease. _Don’t be a pessimist, Jamie! It’s always darkest before the dawn._

                The sound rattled on for some time before he actually noticed it, and then it turned his blood to ice. Long, thin screeches, like nails on a chalkboard—or nails on glass. He glanced toward the frosted glass of the door and he could _see_ the hand when it pressed forward, scratching down the glass. There was a blue glow as well; it was _Marvin_. Jameson stepped back, tempted to hide, run into Henrik’s modest bedroom and hide under his cot-style bed. It would be easy, but he had a job to do, and abandoning Jack at the first sign of trouble wouldn’t do. Jameson stepped toward the door, his heart in his throat. The hand withdrew, and the quiet crept in before two hands returned, slamming against the door so hard that Jameson would have screamed—if he could.

                Anti’s green eyes burned through the fogged barrier, “Come out, little mouse. Come out and complete my set.”

                Jameson’s insides twisted. Set? That meant… he was alone. He backed away from the door on shaky feet, stopping only when his hips bumped into the exam table where Jack slept. The heart monitor skipped again, and Jameson’s hands shook when he patted Jack’s arm. _There there, chuckaboo, don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you._

                “Jameson,” Anti growled. “I’ve got a pretty little cat out here who’d love to bat you around. Don’t make him wait.”

                Jameson flipped the bird to the door, and even though no one could see it but him, he felt better. A small act of defiance can do wonders for morale. That being said, Jameson was rapidly running out of steam. He was frightened, mourning, tired, and not angry enough—never angry enough. His near-constant joy was draining out of him like the blood from his face and he paled inside and out when Anti pounded on the door again.

                “Jamie,” Jackie called. “Jamie it’s alright. It doesn’t hurt. I was upset over nothing. I’m with the others now. We’re all together.”

                “No point in hiding anymore, Hase,” Henrik said. “It’s over. Come out now and make it easy on yourself.”

                “We’ll go get a drink together!” Chase laughed. “Whisky on me!”

                “Come out so I can play with you, Jamie,” Marvin purred.

                They were all there, on the other side of the door, broken and tied and controlled. He was officially alone with Jack. Marvin’s nails scratched at the door again, and Jameson closed his eyes.

                He stayed that way, trembling and gripping the exam table, for a long time. Fear and despair were choking him now, more than the threads ever had, but when he looked at Jack’s sleeping face he _knew_. He knew he had to keep him safe.

                “Listen to me, little mouse,” Anti growled from outside. “I’ll leave him alone. I won’t lay a finger—or a blade, or a thread—on him if you give in to me. If you don’t, I’m going to tear this house apart to get to him and make you watch. Then I’ll make each of you take turns hurting him until he’s dead.”

                Jameson walked away to Henrik’s desk, scribbling a note and sliding it under the door. _You swear?_

Anti laughed, and it jittered, jumping in his throat, “Fine, quiet mouse, I’ll swear. I swear not to harm a hair on his precious little head—or chin. Happy?”

                Jameson looked back at Jack; adrenaline was rushing through his blood, and his heart beat loud in his ears, but he was doing the right thing. He was protecting Jack. He took a deep breath, glancing over at his creator one last time, then he stepped out and closed the door behind him, keeping his eyes shut tight as the threads crawled across his body, pulling him under.


	31. Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack wakes up.

                Jack opened his eyes, and light poured in; he winced and closed them again, but something felt wrong. Where was he? He eased his eyes open and turned his head away from the overhead lights. _Schneep’s lab_. He sat up and it was painful, like one too many curls, but he managed to stay upright. His legs were tingling, pins and needles, and his mind felt similar. He remembered the dream he’d had, pulling tubes and wires and talking to Anti.

                Jack carefully let his legs hang over the edge of the table, willing blood back into them, and this time when he stood, he didn’t immediately fall. He was weak though, his legs not quite moving as far or as fast as his brain asked them to. The lab was in general disarray, scattered books and papers and a waste bin full of bloodied gauze. It wasn’t like Schneep to keep things so irredeemably dirty. Jack walked to the door, opening it. The house outside was dark. There was more blood here, on the carpet, on the walls, on the couch. Silence was beating in his ears like blood and he checked the bedrooms. The first was clean, fairly simple—and had once been the gaming room before Jameson had needed a place. It was empty. Chase’s room next, cluttered and thrashed, the open gun case on the desk, but no sign of Chase. Marvin’s room was dark and cold, subconscious whispers of the arcane that made the space feel haunted; other than the spirits, nobody was inside. Jackie’s room was last, sheets bloodied and thrashed off the bed, and the window cracked half open. Jackie liked to do his best thinking on the roof. Jack lifted the window and stuck his head outside, “Jackie?” he tried to call. His voice was a dry rasp.

                He borrowed clothes from Jackie’s bureau and padded back down the hall to the kitchen. After two glasses of water, his throat felt less like it was stuffed with razor blades, and he could speak. He sat on the couch, avoiding the blood, and called out, “Hello? Guys?”

                Nobody answered, and Jack was too wiped from his small journey to search beyond the house. He didn’t know where his phone was, and if he’d been in a coma, there was a good chance that one of the others had it. He was suddenly tempted to find a computer and check the date, his channel, the state of the world, but the thought of even remembering a single password overwhelmed him. He wanted to sleep, a real sleep—the sleep of the willing—and so he did, curled up on the familiar couch.

 

                When the front door banged open, Jack woke and sat up, his head spinning just a bit; he was expecting one of his five, but it was Anti in the doorway. “Morning, sunshine.”

                “Anti, where’s everybody else?”

                “Outside,” Anti said. ‘It’s a beautiful night, and you’re wasting it in here.”

                Jack wrinkled his nose, “I doubt they’re outside enjoying the view with you. Just go away Anti I’m exhausted, too tired for your shit.”

                “I’m exhausted too,” Anti said. “I’ve been busy. Come and see, Jack. Look what I did for you.”

                That got Jack’s attention, and he rose on shaky legs—Anti crossed to help him stand—and walked to the door. It was night out, like Anti said, and there were mannequins all over the yard. Jack sighed, “Anti I don’t know where you got this many mannequins but they’re going ba-”

                Jack trailed off when the smell hit him, and he doubled over, heaving. He only managed to bring up water, and his stomach ached around its own emptiness. Anti patted his back until Jack slapped his hand away, “They outlasted their usefulness, Jack, Don’t feel bad. They were dead a long time before they got to your yard.”

                “What did you do?” Jack muttered.

                “I needed a grand distraction, something to draw in the attention of the entire world. I needed that boost, and to distract your little disciples.”

                “Where are they?” Jack demanded, shoving Anti away from him. “Where are they?!”

                Anti rolled his eyes, “I told you, out here, Jack.” The glitch went down the stairs, stepping over corpses as he crossed the street.

                Jack reluctantly followed, coming to his neighbor’s home; it had been broken into, and seemed like it was all but abandoned. Inside the others sat in various levels of dishevelment. Marvin had a gaping wound in his side where red worms—snakes? Threads?—were squirming. Jack covered his mouth, “Guys?”

                They glanced at him, but quickly away again, disinterested. All of their eyes were dull, and their faces smugly satisfied. “They’re such good little puppets,” Anti purred in his ear. “Much better than the rest of those shambling monsters outside.”

                “Let them go, Anti,” Jack said. “Your fight is with me.”

                “Oh but it isn’t, Jackaboy. I don’t want to fight you at all, not really.”

                “What are you talking about Anti, that’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

                “I realized it wasn’t just attention that I wanted,” Anti growled. “It was _your_ attention. And now I have it, _all_ of it, Jack. There’s no one else here. My puppets listen to only me and all the rest of the world is dead.”

                “You don’t have the power to do that,” Jack said.

                Anti laughed, his form glitching and sputtering, “No, but _we_ did. I would thank you for all of your help, but you were mostly just a glorified battery.”

                Jack felt sick again, but it was a hopeless, floating kind of sick, and this time, there was no water left to bring up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading! All comments appreciated! You can find my tumblr under this same username. I’m a writer and MOST of my content is about that with very little fandom stuff, but I will be posting the chapters of this over there first.


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